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THE LONE EAGLE 


CAPTAIN 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


LINDBERGH 


A 


ES 


CAPTAIN CHARL 


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UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN | 


i 


NOV 15 1988] 


L161—O-1096 


[7 worse 8 "OSU AA. viod 


LINDBERGH 


The Lone Eagle 
HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


By 
GEORGE BUCHANAN FIFE 


_ With a Valuable Chapter on the Navigation of 
“The Spirit of St. Louis’ 


By 
CAPTAIN ROBERT SCHOFIELD WOOD 
D. F. C., M. C., Croix de Guerre; of the Independent Air 


Force, R. A. F., in France during the World War. 
g 


And including a copy of the contents of the book presented 
to Captain Lindbergh by Secretary of State Kellogg, 
of world-wide congratulations received by the 
Unirep STaTES GOVERNMENT 


THE WORLD SYNDICATE CO., INC. 
| NEW YORK 


Copyright, 19027, by 
Press PUBLISHING Co. (NEw YorkK WORLD) 


Copyright, 1927, by 
THE Wor.p SYNDICATE COMPANY, INC. 


PRESS OF 
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CQ, 
CLEVELAND 


Made in U.S. A, 


CHAPTER 


I. 


II. 
III. 


CONTENTS 


Tue Take-Orr FROM ROOSEVELT 
FIELD Bae Ser gO att at OF 

THE ATLANTIC Phiens 

FRANCE IN THIRTY-THREE AND One. 
HALF Hours 


. His Earuier YEARS 
. VARIED FLYING careers 
. JOINING THE CATERPILLAR CLUB 


More Harir-Raisinc Escares 


. A FourtH PARACHUTE ESCAPE . 

. In THE Mair SERVICE 

. BoyHoop ANECDOTES . 

. A WonpbeERFUL EXECUTIVE 

. THe $25,000 Priz—E OFFERED 

. VISIONS OF THE “Spirit oF St. Louis” 


BUILDING 


. THe “Spirit oF Cre pe ORDERED 
. A Fine ScHoou Story 

. Fryinc Over THE ATLANTIC 

. RECEPTION 


IN FRANCE, BELGIUM, 
ENGLAND 


PERILS OF THE Neca NG : 


. Linpy ARRIVES ON THE U.S.S. Mem- 


phis AND WASHINGTON’S SPLENDID 

RECEPTION PaaS 

New YorK’s ie Sie recini Stor 
ill 


CONTENTS (Continued) 


CHAPTER PAGE 
XXI. Tue Hero Prays ‘‘Hookety”’ on 
Lone. ISeAnpD (6 00) Sa 
XXII. THe Orrictat DINNER OF THE CITY 
OF NEW YORK) 0/0000 (20) eo 
XXIII. Secretary oF STATE’S PRESENTATION 
Copy oF WoriLp-WIDE CoNGRATU- 
LATIONS (360) 0) ca ao ah ee 


Publisher's Note 


Mr. George Buchanan Fife of the Editorial Staff of the 
New York Evening World was especially assigned to write 
this work from the “take off’ at Roosevelt Field of Captain 
Lindbergh with the “Spirit of St. Louis” for the New York 
to Paris Flight. 


Captain Robert Schofield is a veteran aviator of the 
World War and also of the Evening World Staff. He 
wrote the valuable chapter showing the operation of the 
various instruments for navigating “The Spirit of St. 
Louis.” ‘The Work is now published in permanent book 
form by special arrangement. 


Tae ee ae, 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Captain Charles A. Lindbergh. 

Mrs. Evangeline Lodge Lindbergh. 

The Airplane “Spirit of St. Louis.” 

The Captain and Patsy the Kitten. 

Air Mail Letter Carried by Captain Lindbergh. 

Captain Lindbergh, Commander Byrd and 
Clarence Chamberlin. 

The Lindbergh Home in Detroit. 

Crowds in New York Awaiting News of Ar- 
rival from Paris. 

Captain Lindbergh, B. F. Maloney and C. L. 


Lawrence. 


. Captain Lindbergh and Ambassador Herrick go- 


ing to City Hall, Paris. 


. Showing Details of the Airplane. 
. Captain Lindbergh with the Legion of Honor 


Medal, presented by the President of France. 


. “The Spirit of St. Louis” in Paris Hangar. 
. Captain Lindbergh at the Aero Club, Paris. 
. Photos of Medals Presented by the President 


of the United States, President of France, King 
of England and King of Belgium. 

Beautiful View of the U.S.S. Memphis Coming 
Into the Dock, Washington, D. C. 


. Colonel Lindbergh and Admiral Burrage Coming 


Down the Gang Plank of U.S.S. Memphis. 


18. 


IQ. 
20. 


21. 


32. 
oY 


24. 
25. 


26. 


27. 
28. 


29. 
30. 


che 
2, 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS (Continued) 


Secretary of State Kellogg, Mrs. Lindbergh, Mrs. 
Coolidge, President Coolidge, John Hayes 
Hammond and Colonel Lindbergh. 

Colonel Lindbergh Before the Microphones Re- 
sponding to President Coolidge’s Welcome. 

Postmaster General Harry S. New Presenting 
the First Lindbergh Air Mail Stamp. 

Left to Right: Assistant Secretary of Commerce 
McCracken, Assistant Secretary of the Navy 
Warner, Commander Byrd, Colonel Lindbergh, 
Assistant Secretary of War Davidson, Irving 
Glover in Charge of Air Mail Post Office. 

Colonel Charles A. Lindbergh Leaving Wash- 
ington for New York in an Army Plane. 

How a New York Crowd Saw the River Parade 
from an Excursion Steamer. 

Fire Boats Saluting in New York Harbor. 

The New York Parade in the Grand Canyon of 
Broadway, near Wall Street. 

Great New York Parade at the Corner of Broad- 
way and Maiden Lane. 

Mayor Walker Presenting the Medal of Valor. 

The Illuminated Scroll Presented to Colonel 
Lindbergh by Mayor Walker, New York City. 

Charles Macauley Presenting Mrs. Lindbergh 
with a Drawing. 

Showing Colonel Lindbergh in the Official Car. 

Famous Float in New York Fifth Avenue Parade. 

New York Parade on Fifth Avenue. 


CHAPTER I 


THE TAKE-OFF FROM ROOSEVELT FIELD 


Ir youth ever made a superb and defiant 
gesture it was when Captain Charles A. Lind- 
bergh took off, all alone, from Roosevelt Field, 
Long Island, at 7:52 o’clock on the morning of 
Friday; May 20, 1927, to fly to Paris. 

Many air pilots of skill and long experience 
wagged their heads over it; said that never be- 
fore had a 200-horse power motor been asked 
to lift and fly with such a load, 5,150 pounds; 
wondered what the youngster could be thinking 
of to seek the air—provided he could get aloft 
—with 750 pounds more of weight than his 
plane had ever flown; and did he imagine that 
he could be sure of remaining awake and alert 
for the forty estimated hours the voyage would 


[1] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


require? In other words, what a foolhardy 
thing to try. 

Yet “Slim” Lindbergh, this embodiment of 
youth at twenty-five, gave them all his answer 
in just thirty-three and a half hours after he 
left the wagging heads behind. For in that in- 
terval he flew through storm and stress above 
the lonesome wastes of the North Atlantic and 
won to Paris for the greatest reception any 
living man has ever received. 

Nor were the wagging heads all of it. “Slim” 
Lindbergh seemed to have the weather against 
him, too. For when he went to Roosevelt 
Field, determined to make the flight, all the 
neighborhood was enveloped in a misty rain. 
Apparently no worse weather for flying could 
have been imagined. 

But the young heart of him held him to his 
appointed task and even when, at last, his 
doughty little plane, “Spirit of St. Louis” (and 
of Youth, too), rose with such perilous slow- 
ness into the air, it was lost a minute later in 
the folds of the morning mist. And for long 
after that, all that the watchers who had seen 
‘‘Slim” go knew of him was that he was headed 
for Paris. The rest lay with Chance. 

[2] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


It was all drama, that morning of ‘‘Slim’s”’ 
take-off, with tragedy seemingly waiting in the 
wings for its cue. Some of those who wished 
most eagerly for his success thought he was 
yielding unwisely to his impatience to be off. 
But he had, in reality, thought it all out. He 
had made up his mind on Thursday afternoon, 
following receipt of weather reports as to con- 
ditions over the North Atlantic, that the com- 
ing morning would be the time for him to set 
out, and after that he was not to be deterred. 

But he made no announcement of his plan, 
save to send word to the mechanics in his 
hangar at Curtiss Field to prepare the silvery 
“Spirit of St. Louis’ for the flight, cautioning 
them, however, to keep this utterly secret. He 
went himself to the hangar and, behind its 
locked doors, he and the mechanicians inspected 
and tested every inch of the plane. 

The order for the immediate delivery of the 
particularly high grade gasoline ‘‘Slim’’ desired 
for his motor was what caused the secret to 
leak out. Then it was about 10:30 o'clock 
Thursday night, and the hour was one for 
ducks, not planes. ‘The sky over the flying field 
was ebon black, heavy fog lay upon everything 

[3] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


and through it came the steady drip, drip of 
rain. 

‘Slim’? remained at the hangar until nearly 
midnight, superintending the part filling of the 
gas tank and the taking on of oil. He spoke. 
little, save in directions to the men who worked 
with him, but there was no shadow upon his 
ruddy face. Outside the hangar, now that the 
news of his determination to fly in the early 
morning had spread abroad, a crowd of several 
hundred had gathered, striving to disregard 
the rain. The lights of a herd of automobiles 
parked some distance away, lighted up the pud- 
dles that glittered everywhere upon the soggy 
field. 

When, his preparatory work accomplished, 
“Slim” hastened away from the hangar to the 
Garden City Hotel, he asked that he be called 
at 2:15 o’clock without fail, but he was dressed 
and downstairs before 2 o'clock. Sleep evi- 
dently meant nothing to him. He got into the 
motor car which had been kept in readiness for 
him, and drove to Curtiss Field. 

Although the weather reports at that hour 
indicated that there was a marked lifting of 
the fog along the coast toward Nova Scotia, 


[4] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


Curtiss Field was still lugubrious with inter- 
mittent rain. It was as dreary a reach as was 
to have been found on all Long Island. Evi- 
dently it had proved too much for the greater 
part of the crowd which had gathered at mid- 
night, still, there were so many people huddled 
in the wet about the entrance to the field that 
a motorcycle escort was necessary to get ‘‘Slim’”’ 
to his hangar. 

The rain was pouring down when the young 
pilot reached the building, and he made sev- 
eral telephone inquiries of the Weather Bu- 
reau concerning conditions to the northeast. 
These were sufficiently encouraging for “Slim”’ 
to order his plane upon the field, so at 4:15 
o'clock the hangar doors were opened and the 
“Spirit of St. Louis,” a greasy canvas cover- 
ing over its motor, was trundled out into the 
now lessening rain. 

Flares had been lighted and the police had 
cleared a deep space in front of the building, 
and into this the plane rolled, its silvery sides 
now all glistening silver. The crowd, which 
stretched away into the darkness in two long 
lines, stood silent, figures out of focus in the 
mist. 


[5] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


A heavy motor truck was then backed up 
toward the plane, which the hangar workmen 
swung about so that its tail might be lifted to 
the rear of the vehicle. Ropes were made fast 
to the tail and, with the exercise of every care, 
it was bound to the truck for the rutty, bump- 
ing journey from Curtiss Field to Roosevelt 
Field. When the lashings were in place, 
“Slim,” who had watched the operation with 
the keenest eye, passed his hands over them for 
a last time and then walked back to his auto- 
mobile and took his seat. Then some one gave 
an order and the truck with its trailing plane, 
moved forward. It was just 5 o'clock. 

Headed, flanked and followed by motorcycle 
policeman, the ‘Spirit of St. Louis’ went 
wabbling after the truck over the long and slow 
journey. Spectators were not permitted to 
follow, only those having something to do with 
the important business in hand and the squad 
of newspaper men. As the plane rolled across 
the uneven ground its wings flung violently 
from side to side as if it resented being lugged 
along tail first when all its eagerness was to 
arrow its beak into the wind. 

From time to time a halt was called so that 


[6] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


mechanics might feel the wheel bearings to see 
that they did not become overheated, under 
the load of more than 200 gallons of gasoline, 
and to examine the lashings. ‘Then the slow 
journey was resumed. 

When the procession reached a deeply rutted 
road which it was necessary to cross, the 
truck stopped again so that boards could be 
placed over them to afford trackage for the 
landing gear. And so, with infinite care, the 
“Spirit of St. Louis’ was escorted—which 
seems a so much kinder word than dragged— 
to the head of the runway on Roosevelt Field. 

“Slim” had not followed his plane on that 
racking journey, but arrived later, seeking the 
latest of weather reports. From the liner 
Berengaria, 1,300 miles east of Ambrose Light, 
came word that moderate to fresh southwest 
winds were blowing, with clear weather and a 
rising barometer. The George Washington, 
700 miles east of the Light, announced light 
southwest winds, haze and a slight rain, but 
with visibility of ten miles. ‘These messages 
told of moderately good weather at least along 
the steamship lane, which is several hundred 


[7] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


miles south of the ‘Great Circle,” along which 
Lindbergh had elected to fly. 

A little while before he arrived at the run- 
way the dawn came. The rain had dwindled 
to a drizzle and stopped. But a thin mist still 
made things shadowy and vague. “Slim” got 
out of his motor car to stretch his long legs. 
He was clad in riding breeches, golf stockings 
and a tight-fitting woolen sweater. Soon after 
he alighted he walked over to his plane and 
stood an appreciable time looking at it. Once 
or twice he gazed skyward—in the direction of 
Paris, where the lowering gray still hung. 

Some of those who stood watching him 
seemed to see in his manner a crystal-clear in- 
dication of what was in his mind—that he was 
face to face with a tremendous undertaking, 
but one which must not be shirked for anything 
in this world. His bearing was, to them, that 
of a man who, if his breast held fears, felt 
too, a courage which far transcended them. 
There was no least sign that he thought for one 
instant of surrender. 


At that moment, perhaps, ‘Slim’ thought 
of his mother. She was far away, in her little 


[8] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


home in Detroit, probably dreaming of her tall 
son who was about to set out on a glorious and 
hazardous adventure, or lying awake and pray- 
ing for his safe return. 

She had bid him godspeed the Saturday be- 
fore. It had been an unemotional meeting, this 
farewell between a courageous mother of the 
early pioneer type and her equally brave son. 
There had been little opportunity for a display 
of sentiment even if either of them had felt 
inclined that way. 

Mrs. Lindbergh had spent only two hours 
with him at Curtiss Field on that last occasion 
before her son became the idol of the Western 
World. When it had been time for her to 
say good-by to him, they: had been the center 
of a jostling, staring crowd. 

“Well, good-by, sonny, take care of your- 
self,” she had said while he stooped down to 
receive her kiss. 

“All right, ma, good-by.”’ 


The runway on Roosevelt Field is a wide, 
well-rolled strip of turf 5,000 feet long made 
as smooth as possible as a path for a plane’s 
take-off. Owing to the wind, the “Spirit of St. 
| [9] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


Louis” was so set at the head of it that the plane 
was pointed in a direction opposite to that 
which Captain Fonck took last year in the 
Sikorski ship which crashed, burst into flame 
and incinerated two of its crew. Thus “Slim’s” 
plane was faced toward the east—toward Paris. 

A motor truck containing several sealed 
drums of ‘‘Slim’s’’ special gasoline was drawn 
up near the plane, and as the morning was now 
quite light, the workmen began the task of de- 
canting the fuel and filling the tanks to their 
required capacity. This was a long and tedious 
work, done by the aid of five-gallon cans which 
were filled, passed along to men standing over 
the engine and poured in. 

“Slim” did not watch this, but sat in his mo- 
tor car, talking with those about him, or star 
ing incuriously at the little crowd standing 
around the plane. He ate a sandwich and 
drank a glass of water, refusing hot coffee 
which was offered to him in a thermos bottle. 
Later he alighted from the car, watched the 
mechanics, and then strolled back to the car 
again. He was a very young boy who was look- 
ing very intently into the future. 

Once, while “Slim’’ was standing by the 


[10] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


plane, Commander Richard Byrd, himself wait- 
ing to take off on the same journey, went up to 
him with hearty outstretched hand. 

“Good luck and God be with you, old man. 
I’ll see you in Paris!” 

“Slim” took the hand and held it fast, but 
seemed much embarrassed. His head was 
bowed, his eyes sought the ground as if he were 
a foolhardy boy in the presence of one who 
must see him as such. But he looked up after 
a moment, gave Byrd’s hand a lusty shake and 
murmured his thanks with that ready smile of 
his. Then Bert Acosta, Byrd’s pilot; Clarence 
Chamberlin, who was later to fly to Berlin; 
Lieut. G. O. Noville, also of Byrd’s crew; Ray- 
mond Orteig, Jr., and Jean Orteig, sons of the 
New Yorker who offered the $25,000 prize for 
the first flight between New York and Paris, 
came up and wished “‘Slim’’ godspeed. And all 
this only added to ‘‘Slim’s” confusion. 

By the time the gas had been taken aboard, 
spectators to the number of several thousands 
were gathered along the rope barriers the po- 
lice had erected and hundreds of motor cars 
were parked at a safe distance from the run- 
way. “Slim” had never before had such a “gal- 


[11] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


lery,” but he paid not the least heed to it. He 
strode to the side of his plane, opened it and 
took out his fur-lined flying suit, and was helped 
into it. He looked about a third larger than 
before. Then he went back to his automobile, 
donned his helmet, with the goggles clinging 
above the brim of it, and sat down. 

Within a moment a rising whine and then a 
roar came from the silver plane. The motor 
had been started and a hurricane was screaming 
down the runway. That roar was the call to 
“Slim” Lindbergh. He rose and with quicker 
step than before, crossed the space between his 
car and the plane and without a _ pause, 
climbed onto the cramped cockpit and closed 
the door. 

For a moment he seemed to play with the 
motor, speeding the revolutions of the pro- 
peller, diminishing them. ‘Then he “gave her 
the gun,” until the plane shook and the very air 
vibrated with the sound. During an interval 
of semi-quiet, one of the little party which had 
been talking with “Slim,” went up to him and 
asked: 

‘Ts it true that you’re taking only five sand- 
wiches and two canteens of water?” 


[12] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


“Yes, it’s true,” “Slim” replied, leaning to 
one side to speak and smile through the narrow 
window. ‘They'll be enough. If I get to 
Paris I won’t need any more, and if I don’t get 
to Paris I won’t need any more, either.” Thus 
fatalistic “Slim.” 

As the questioner walked away, “‘Slim’’ once 
more opened wide the throttle, and those stand- 
ing near could see him with his eyes fixed on 
the instrument board. Then, cutting down, he 
beckoned to Edward J. Mulligan, field engineer 
for the Wright Company which had built the 
motor. 

“How does she sound?” he asked. 

‘She sounds mighty good to me,” Mulligan 
replied. 

“Slim”? waited an instant and then he said, 
“Well, then, don’t you think I might as well 
go ee 

“Yes, I guess you better had,” was just what 
Mulligan answered. And those six words were 
the last “Slim” heard until all Paris rose to 
thunder its welcome. 

Once more the engine of the ‘Spirit of St. 
Louis” filled the air. ‘Slim’? waved a hand, the 

[13] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


mechanics drew away the wheel-chocks and his. 
ereat adventure had begun. It was 7.52. 

The plane started down the runway so slowly 
that many lips tightened in that great crowd. 
Into the rain-sodden turf the wheels sank 
deeply. Mud was spattering in al! directions. 
It seemed impossible that the plane could leave 
the ground. The wings lurched as irregulari- 
ties in the turf were encountered. The motor 
seemed to be roaring its loudest. 

Four hundred feet from the starting point 
the “Spirit of St. Louis” struck a deep spot. 
It seemed for a moment that the plane must 
overturn because it had swung to one side. 
But the powerful motor drew it straight acain. 
Still it was not yet a-wing. 

Several hundred feet more it bumped over 
the turf and suddenly sprang once again into 
the air, flung upward by some hummock of 
earth, only to come down heavily. But each 
of these leaps had siven added speed to the 
motor, increased ‘‘Slim’s” chances. 

At last the 3,800 foot mark was reached, 
with the end of the runway almost at hand. It 
was now or never. Another leap and the plane 
was seen to waver, and here it was that ‘‘Slim’”’ 


fra] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


won, for the “Spirit of St. Louis’ remained in 
the air. 

Clarence Chamberlin, who, with Byrd and 
the rest, were watching “Slim” with a great 
fear in their hearts, cried out: 

‘*The man who lives through the hell of that 
single point and doesn’t decide to cut his gun 
and stop his plane, may get into the air or he 
may go over the bank, but there'll never be 
any doubt of his courage!” 

Then the watchers saw “Slim’s” weighted 
plane make another leap into the air, and it 
was seen to waver, but in that leap he won, 
for the “Spirit of St. Louis” rose from the 
ground and held it. 

“Fe’s off!” the crowd cried—and waited. 

It was no great height, only fifteen feet, but 
“Slim” was flying. The question now was 
would he be able to clear a shanty and a line 
of telegraph wires which spanned his path. 
There was also a deep gully just beyond. 

An instant more and the plane rose a little, 
barely enough, it seemed, to clear the obstruc- 
tions. Yet it cleared them, if by only a few 
feet, and in some miraculous way, began to 
climb, slowly, slowly. It swung to the right, 

[15] 


CHARLES 4A. LINDBERGH 


then back again, but always upward. In a lit- 
tle while it had gained what appeared to be 
a height of about 300 feet. 

It was now a silent silver bird in the gray 
sky, and so it passed from sight. 

“Slim” was on his valiant way. 


[16] 


CHAPTER II 
THE ATLANTIC FLIGHT 


WHILE the feat of Captain Charles A. Lind- 
bergh is imperishably enrolled in the chronicle 
of the daring ones of the human race, it will 
be a long, long day before millions on both 
sides of the Atlantic shall cease to remember, 
with something akin to the old thrill, the eager- 
ness and anxiety with which they awaited news 
of the youth and his faithful plane after he had 
once soared into the air above Roosevelt Field. 

It was at 7:52 o’clock on that Friday morn- 
ing, May 20, 1927, that he took off. Those 
who watched the start from the field noted 
with much apprehension that he seemed so long 
in rising to safe cruising height. There was 
reasonable misgiving, because the “Spirit of 
St. Louis” was bearing the heaviest burden an 
engine of her horse power had ever before been 
called upon to bear. 


[17] 


CHARLES 4. LINDBERGH 


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In the minutes that followed after the plane 
disappeared from view, vague reports came 
that it had been seen here, there, several places. 
But the first authentic word of “Slim” and his 
ship came from East Greenwich, Rhode Island. 
They passed over that community at 9:05 
o'clock. Thence the course lay over Middle- 
boro, Massachusetts, and at 9:40 o'clock the 
news was flashed to the world that plane and 
pilot had been sighted at Halifax, Mass. 

The latter was not a wholly encouraging re- 
port, because observers said that his plane 
seemed to be wabbling as if struggling with a 

[18] 


ee Se et eed 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


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[19] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


great load. It was reported, also, that his ele- 
vation was not more than 150 feet, that he 
appeared to brush the treetops. To add to 
the seeming uncertainty of flight, watchers and 
listeners sent out word that his motor was 
missing. 

This, as later information showed, was quite 
untrue, for never once did the engine miss in 
all the leagues to Paris. Engineers explained 
that with the type of motor driving the ‘‘Spirit 
of St. Louis,’”’ the gas explosion in one cylinder 
frequently muffled that occurring:in the next 
and thus produced the reported irregularity of 
sound commonly associated with an engine run- 
ning “‘sweetly.” 

After the word from Halifax, Mass., there 
was a prolonged interval of complete silence. 
Not a word of “Slim” and his ship. As a mat- 
ter of fact he was roaring along the New Eng- 
land coast, having taken a seaward course at 
Scituate, Mass., for his first over-water flight 
on the 200-mile journey to the coast of Nova 
Scotia. 

It was not until he soared over Meteghan, 
N.S., that the suspense was ended for a time at 
least. He passed over that city at 12:25 P.M. 


[20] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


During the journey from Massachusetts, 
‘Slim’? was out of sight of land for a distance 
of approximately 300 miles. His motor was 
throttled down to three-fourths of its capacity 
and purring like a contented gigantic cat. 

Springfield, N. S., was the next community 
to get a glimpse of the plane. This was at 
1:05 o'clock in the afternoon. 

He was now speeding toward what every 
one feared was to be the worst region of his 
flight, the cold fog which wraps itself with such 
deadly arms about the Newfoundland regions. 

Watchers were everywhere posted to seek 
out the plane in the sky and, at 1:50 o'clock, 
sharp eyes caught “Slim” over Milford, N. S., 
which is forty miles north of Halifax. Then 
came another interval until the good folk of 
Mulgrave sighted him at 3:05 o'clock, passing 
over that town and the Straits of Canso, wing- 
ing toward Cape Breton. 

At 5 o'clock, ‘“‘Slim’s” ship cleared Main-a- 
Dieu, the easternmost tip of Nova Scotia, at 
Cape Breton. Now there lay between him and 
Newfoundland a stretch of 200 miles of gray 
sea. But the weather was clear and “Slim” 
had driven his plane to a high altitude. The 

[21] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


number, 211, painted on her wings could be 
read with strong glasses. 

Then came the last report of the dare-all 
youth for that day, Friday. It was word which 
was flashed from St. John’s, Newfoundland, at 
7:15 in the evening. He was passing there, 
headed out over the Atlantic. 

The flight over St. John’s had caused “Slim” 
to go a little out of his way, but he did this in 
order to be sure of the landmark. He flew 
low enough there to establish beyond any 
doubt just where he was, because St. John’s 
was the last land he was to see until he reached 
the Irish coast. Once he dropped so low 
that he had to rise perceptibly to clear a hill- 
top. 

When darkness came down upon the world 
within an hour after “Slim” left Newfound- 
land on the tail of his plane, fog and rain came 
with it. The fog was low and chillingly cold, 
but ‘‘Slim’” was protected from the latter by 
the enclosed cockpit and his warm flying suit. 
Actually he suffered no inconvenience. He was 
speeding along at 100 miles an hour. 

Had it not been for the storm, ‘“‘Slim’s” 
plane might have been discerned by the watches 


[22] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


on several ships, whose glow he saw far below 
him, but the rain and mist shut him from ob- 
servation by them. 

In the dreary wastes off Newfoundland 
“Slim” saw a number of icebergs and was con- 
scious of added cold in the atmosphere. He 
swung away from them and as the storm per- 
sisted, he tried his best, by altering his course, 
and descending to so slight an altitude as ten 
feet above the water, to get away from the 
menace. 

This failed, and in a little while he ran into 
heavy clouds. The peril in them, for they were 
filled with sleet, caused ‘Slim’ to take the 
“Spirit of St. Louis” to an altitude of 10,000 
feet. This height he maintained until early 
morning came. 

But with the morning he was confronted 
with a condition that struck hard at his great 
courage. Sleet had begun to gather on the 
plane. What this spells in danger can be ap- 
preciated only by a pilot. It ‘has been the 
death of more than one. 

Just for a moment “Slim” Lindbergh asked 
himself, in a swift debate with the goddess 
Chance, whether he should keep on or turn 


[23] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


back. This moment was the crucial one in 
‘Slim’s” life. He was well on his flight, far 
from land, perilously far from aid of any kind. 
What to do? 

And then, in a flash, he realized that to: turn 
back would not only mean facing just as great 
danger, but would be the end of the adventure 
on which he had set his sturdy heart. No, he 
would not turn back. It was Paris—or noth- 
ing. So, on he went. 

As he rushed ahead he realized that the 
storm was lessening, that sleet was no longer 
forming an ominous coating on his plane, and 
his heart lightened with the coming of the day. 
As the storm abated it was possible for him to 
seek a lower level and this he held. And all 
the time his motor was singing the same hope- 
ful tune that thrummed in his own breast. 

So, from 7:15 Friday night until 6:30 on 
Saturday morning the world awaited news of 
him. It came at the latter hour, a wireless 
dispatch which said that “Slim” and his plane 
were reported by a vessel as 200 miles off the 
coast of Ireland. Everybody wanted so much 
to believe that, but there was marked scepti- 
cism as to the veracity of it. Was there, per- 


[24] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


haps, some doubt still that “Slim” would win 
to Paris? 

Now came succeeding flashes by cable and 
wireless, all hopeful, some seeming incontro- 
vertible, some still arousing doubt in multitudes 
which were afraid to hope too much. 

A radio message reached Cape Race, New- 
foundland, from a Dutch ship at 8:10 o’clock 
Saturday morning that “Slim” and his plane 
were 500 miles off the Irish coast. On the 
heels of this came, at 9:50 a dispatch from 
London that the plane had been sighted 100 
miles off Ireland. Whether this was ‘‘Slim” or 
not, it was at least a plane, and that was some- 
thing. 

The suspense which held two continents was 
relieved measurably at 10 o’clock when the Ra- 
dio Corporation reported that its Paris office 
announced the “Spirit of St. Louis” to be then 
over Valencia, Ireland. 

This was almost instantly confirmed by word 
from Halifax, N. S., that Lindbergh had 
passed over Valencia. 

It was realized by countless watchers that 
many planes are constantly flying over land, 
and that one or another might be mistaken for 


[25] 


CHARLES A, LINDBERGH 


‘‘Slim’s”’ ship, also that the wish to report him 
safe might well be father to the deed. 

But it was “Slim” over Ireland, in very truth. 
He had not been quite certain as he roared on- 
ward that Ireland lay directly ahead of him, 
and such uncertainty, as he stated after his safe 
arrival in Paris, caused him to make, veritably, 
the most unexpected and amusing inquiry ever 
put to a mariner. | 

“Slim” had sighted a fleet of fishing craft 
offshore. If he did not know precisely where 
he was, they would know where they were. 
So he decided to ask his way, somewhat as one 
would request a direction from a traffic police- 
man. ‘To do this, he had to dive down almost 
upon one of the boats, on which he saw several 
men. As he came abreast of them he opened 
his side window and asked: 

‘Ahoy there! Am I headed for Ireland?” 

“Slim” said afterward that not a man on 
the boat replied. Their eyes were wide open, 
as were their mouths, but no sound came forth. 
Perhaps the roar of the plane’s motor drowned 
‘‘Slim’s” voice; perhaps they may have given 
him some answer, but, at any rate, ‘‘Slim’’ ob- 
tained no sailing directions from them. 


[26] 


CAPTAIN LINDBERGH AND PaTsy THE KITTEN 


THE LINDBERGH HOME IN DETROIT 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


- Wherefore, all he could do was rise again 
and wing on as he had been going, and trust to 
a sense of direction which had never greatly 
failed him. 

Thus, while messages were flashing about 
the world that he had reached Ireland, ‘‘Slim”’ 
had alrecdy picked up a stretch of rocky shore 
ahead, and realized, from what he had dug out 
of maps in preparation for the flight, that what 
he saw was truly Ireland, and almost his goal. 
He made sure by flying low, then rose again, 
and soon was swiftly on his way. 

One fact stands out sharply in ‘“Slim’s”’ 
flight, and that is the accuracy with which he 
“hit” the Irish coast. He had always intended 
making for it rather than for Spain or even 
the southwestern part of France. He does not 
lay this to his sense of direction, because he 
had many hours of flying in the dark over the 
Atlantic, but rather to his earth inductor com- 
pass. | 

The basic principle of this device is the re- 
lation of the magnetic field of the earth to the 
magnetic field which is generated in the plane 
itself. Its needle is set at zero for a desired 
course and when there is any deflection from 


[27] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


this course, for any reason whatsoever, the 
needle swings in the direction of such an error. 
Correction is made by piloting the plane so that 
the needle is swung to the other side of zero 
for approximately the same time as that of the 
error. Thus the plane is brought back to its 
intended course. 

Daylight and earth visibility relieved “Slim”’ 
of much of his problem of getting to Paris, 
especially as he had good maps of the terrain 
to be picked up. When he reached Ireland 
and then England, he flew at a low enough 
altitude to disclose the identity of his plane. 
Twilight is long in falling in that latitude in 
summer, and this was another aid to him. But 
it seemed to him that, for all his low flying, and 
his rather obvious attempt to let his safety be 
known, no one gave much heed to him. He 
did not realize that wireless, cable and tele- 
graph keys were clicking off his progress almost 
to the exclusion of everything else. 

Irish observers were indeed alert in report- 
ing the position of his famous plane. Belfast 
sent word at 12:30 o'clock in the afternoon 
(and these and all other time figures given here 
are New York daylight-saving time), that 

[28] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


“Slim” was over the otherwise somnolescent 
community of Dingle. Then the Government 
wireless station at Valencia flashed out the 
news at 2:06 o'clock that the collier Nogi had 
also sighted the plane at Dingle. It was evi- 
dently a great day for Dingle. 

Cork’s Civic Guard next had its turn at the 
news and announced that Lindbergh was pass- 
ing over Smerwick Harbor at 2:18. And that 
was the last message from Ireland, for at 3:24 
the French Cable Company electrified millions 
by the announcement, according to official ad- 
vices, that the plane was then over Bayeux, 
France. The French time was then 8:24 
o'clock at night. 

Six minutes later, the “Spirit of St. I.ouis” 
was sighted over Cherbourg, and Paris was at 
hand. 

“Slim” had risen from his low flight over 
England in order to clear the Channel gusts. 
But as he passed to the westward of Cherbourg 
he again descended and headed for the silver 
ribbon of the Seine. He soon picked it out 
and followed it, to his undying renown. 

Paris knew of his coming and a crowd of 
more than 100,000 had gathered at Le Bour- 

129] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


get, the famous flying field just outside the 
capital. There rockets and flares were set off 
and “Slim” sighted them when he was still fifty 
or sixty miles from Paris. 

Only one error.marked “‘Slim’s” course. He 
thought Le Bourget was northeast instead of 
east of the French capital. When he saw a 
field all alight he thought it was quite another 
place than Le Bourget, so he flew back over 
Paris, looking for his predetermined landing 
place. As he found none there to the north- 
west, he doubled again and made for the field 
where he had first seen the beacons and flood- 
lights. 

This must be the place, he thought, though 
he could see no crowd and nothing that looked 
like a hangar. But he did make out the lights 
of a great concourse of automobiles, and as 
there was no other explanation of them than 
that they were waiting for some one, ‘‘Slim” 
wheeled and brought the “Spirit of St. Louis” 
to earth. 

It was 8:21 o'clock at night, according to 
Paris time, or 5:21 o'clock in the afternoon in 
New York. 

And in that instant was terminated the great- 


[30] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


est air voyage yet made by any one man. A 
youth of twenty-five had flown for the first 
time, without a stop, from New York to Paris, 
a distance of 3,640 miles. He had done it in 
thirty-three and one-half hours. 


[31] 


CHAPTER III 
FRANCE IN THIRTY-THREE AND A HALF HOURS 


“T’m Charles Lindbergh.” 

It was just like ‘‘Slim’’ Lindbergh to say that 
as he brought his staunch plane “Spirit of St. 
Louis” to a standstill on the flare-lighted field 
of Le Bourget after his world capturing flight 
from New York to Paris in 33% hours. 

And when later some one asked him if this 
is what he had said and why, because there had 
been so many other statements accredited to 
him on that eventful night, he replied: 

“Yes, that’s what I said because I was afraid 
they might think I was somebody else.” 

That homely sentence and his naive state- 
ment to Ambassador Herrick that as he didn’t 
know anybody in Paris he had brought along 
some letters of introduction, are utterly char- 
acteristic of this unaffected American youth. 
He is as simple as a pipe stem—and almost as 


[32] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


slender—and yet he has been a picturesque 
figure during most of his twenty-five years. 

There can be little doubt that the inner 
simplicity of Charlie Lindbergh shining through 
to his outward bearing has caught the imagina- 
tion of the world in only a little less degree than 
his superb achievement. Nor can it be gain- 
said that he has been much less at his ease with 
the clamor of Paris ringing in his ears than 
when he was compelled to spring from a plane 
whose engine had stalled at 13,000 feet and 
trust himself to a parachute. And what he felt 
when President Doumergue of France kissed 
him on both cheeks with the presentation of the 
Cross of the Legion of Honor can only be 
imagined. 

Until a few days ago “Slim” was com- 
paratively obscure. To be sure, he had 
_ done a great deal of flying, made a great 
record for himself, but it was a localized 
record, chronicled officially in army and air 
mail archives and in the memory of his friends. 
But only a few people knew him. The nation 
as a whole did not know him and his eventful 
career. He was a good pilot, he was a fine 
fellow, but modest to the point of ruddy 

[33] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


embarrassment over anything that thrust him 
into the foreground. That’s what his friends 
and acquaintances thought of him, and “Slim” 
was quite willing to let it go at that. 

So little was he generally: known, for all his 
air skill, that little attention had been paid to 
him until his arrival at Curtiss Field that after- 
noon seven days and a few hours before setting 
out to win to Paris. It never occurred to him, 
the sensation he would cause. 

But with his coming all eyes turned upon 
him, because he had made, in the flight from 
San Diego to St. Louis, the longest hop ever 
achieved by a single pilot in this country. And, 
furthermore, he had come in a “blind” plane, 
one which did not permit the pilot a vision 
ahead save through a periscope. There had 
never before been a “blind” plane, and the 
other aviators at the field, including Com- 
mander Byrd, Bert Acosta, Lloyd Bertaud, 
Clarence Chamberlin, Casey Jones and such 
designers as Anthony Fokker and Giuseppe 
Bellanca, were not only amazed that a man 
would dare to set out in a machine like that or 
contemplate an oversea flight in it, but were 
also astonished that he could have come from 


[34] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


the Pacific Coast with only one stop in 21 hours 
and 40 minutes of actual flying. 

“‘Slim,”’ however, knew nothing of what the 
others felt, and they certainly would not tell 
him of it. When newspaper men asked him 
about the “blindness” of his plane he smiled 
and replied: “I don’t need to see ahead. 
There’s nothing there but air, nothing to run 
into. I can see by the periscope if I want to 
and get all the view abeam I wish out of my 
windows. I can sideslip to make a landing.” 
And that was that. 

Then came the eventful morning, Friday, 
May 20, 1927, at 7:51 o'clock. A dash along 
the runway at Roosevelt Field, the take-off 
which came so perilously near to disaster and 
a few breathless moments afterward the Spirit 
of St. Louis soaring, soaring—on its way to 
Paris and the huzzas of the world! 

And now, what of this youth? What of his 
boyhood and the events of it, of his hopes and 
aims, his beginnings in the air, the years which 
led from his birth to the place to which he has 
flown so far and so high? 

In the first place he is a lanky, six-foot blond 
Viking type, so boyish in appearance, so dif- 

[35] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


fident at all times that it sounds strange to hear 
him called ‘‘Captain,’” even though he does 
rate the title. It seems incredible, too, that he 
should be so skilled an air pilot, for he looks 
much less than his twenty-five years. 

But he was born in Detroit, Mich., on Feb. 
2, 1902. His father, the late Charles A. 
Lindbergh, who died May 24, 1924, while a 
candidate for Governor of Minnesota on the 
Farmer-Labor ticket, had been a Representa- 
tive in Congress from that State. The elder 
Lindbergh had been born in Sweden, but had 
come to this country with his parents at the 
age of three. ‘The boy’s mother is of Irish 
descent, but she says that he takes some of his 
possibly more deep-seated instincts from his 
Scandinavian father. 

The Lindbergh family home was established 
in Little Falls, Minn., in 1886, and there 
‘Slim’? gained the rudiments of his education. 
First he went to public school and then to Little 
Falls High School, from which he was grad- 
uated in 1918, when he was sixteen years of 
age. He was an indifferent pupil, according to 
his mother, not studying very hard in those 
things which did not interest him. Mathe- 

[36] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


matics he liked, but had little interest in Eng- 
lish and grammar. But he did have one 
especial flair, and that was for mechanics. He 
was always tinkering with this or that, seeking 
what made things “go,” and if they couldn’t 
be made to “‘go”’ better. 

This flair caused him eventually to matric- 
ulate at the University of Wisconsin in 1921 
and there he began to work his way through a 
course in mechanical engineering. Though 
“Slim” is far from being of the unsociable sort 
—his friendly smile and his kindliness of man- 
ner are proof of this—he made little effort to 
seek out friendships at the university. He had 
a few friends and some acquaintances, yes, but 
he mingled little in the social life of the institu- 
tion. His whole interest was in engineering. 

Those who were with him in the university 
say that he had an uncommon interest in exper- 
imentation, doing more of it than was really 
required for his engineering course. But the 
termination of an experiment was also the 
termination of his interest in that particular 
thing, and he rarely turned in a report of what 
he had done. 

As for experimentation, his mother tells of 


[37] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


one of the first that came under her observa- 
tion. It was when “Slim” was only a child. 
The family: lived upstairs in a four-family 
house and the family living below possessed a 
much petted Angora cat. “Slim” liked the cat 
—he has always been devoted to animals—but 
he was also a devoted experimenter. 

One day when Mrs. Lindbergh arrived home 
the small daughter of the cat-owning family 
complained to her that Charlie had been hurt- 
ing the Angora. This didn’t sound a bit like 
Charlie, so his mother at once took him to task 
about it. 

‘“‘No, mother, I didn’t hurt the cat one bit,” 
the youngster replied. He looked up at her 
as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Mrs. 
Lindbergh persisted in her questioning and 
little “Slim” “fessed up.” 

“T really didn’t hurt the cat, mother,’’ he 
said. ‘You see, somebody said if you ever 
dropped a cat, and it didn’t matter how far, it 
always fell on its feet. I accidently pushed 
this one off the porch, and when I looked down 
to see whether it would land like that, it really 
did, right on its feet.” 

One of “‘Slim’s” closest friends while he was 


[38] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


at the university was Delos Dudley, a son of 
Professor and Mrs. W. H. Dudley of Madi- 
son, and it was under the back porch of the 
Dudley home, at No. 1909 Regent Street, that 
“Slim” built a contrivance whose shadow may 
be said to have lengthened through the years 
until it fell upon the sleek, silvery body of the 
“Spirit of St. Louis,” which bore him to an un- 
paralleled eminence. 

It was an ice boat, run by a motorcycle 
engine, geared to an airplane propeller. In it 
“Slim” sailed over the frozen surface of Lake 
Mendota in 1921. It was wrecked in a colli- 
sion with a real ice boat, but ‘‘Slim’”’ patched it 
up again and, undaunted as always, drove it 
again and again on the lake. 


[39] 


CHAPTER LV 
HIS EARLY YEARS 


AN impressive thing about Captain Lind- 
bergh’s flight to Paris is what everybody 
believes must have been his feeling of utter 
lonesomeness in his faring over the wastes of 
the windy Atlantic, empty of everything save 
himself and his roaring plane. 

Yet there is every reason to doubt whether 
he ever sensed that. For, from his earliest 
boyhood it was recognized that he much pre- 
ferred to be by himself. When he lived on the 
family farm at Little Falls, Minn., he would 
spend entire days alone in the woods—alone, 
that is, with his dog. He fashioned a boat for 
himself, launched it on one of the woodland 
lakes and used to go for long, adventurous 
cruises, with himself for Captain and his dog 
for crew. 

And in after years, when planes became his 


[40] 


a 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


pets, he flew for hours on end, all alone, and 
gloried in it. So, perhaps, once well aloft in 
the “Spirit of St. Louis,’ his hands and feet 
steadily upon the responsive controls, his face, 
like a devout pilgrim’s, turned to the East, 
winging toward the beckoning of a great 
adventure, there was never a thought of lone- 
someness in his breast—only the high heart of 
youth and a great courage. 

But he comes of his courage by inheritance. 
His paternal grandfather, a doughty old 
Swede, who had been at one time Speaker of a 
branch of the Swedish Parliament and secre- 
tary awhile to the King, had settled in Min- 
nesota, about ten miles from Sauk Center. 
There he built a log cabin on a preémption of 
land. One day, unloading some logs at a saw- 
mill, he fell into the saw. It all save severed 
his right arm. 

There was no surgeon within fifty miles, 
but the Rev. C. S. Harrison of York, Neb., 
then a resident of Sauk Center and preaching 
there, went to Lindbergh’s cabin and cared for 
him as well as was possible. Three days were 
required for the surgeon to arrive, but the 
sturdy Swede held fast, bit the bullet and let 

[41] : 


CHARLES 4A. LINDBERGH 


the surgeon take off his arm without a whimper. 
That was in the summer. When winter came, 
the preacher found Lindbergh in the woods 
chopping rails with his left hand. 

Then, too, there was ‘‘Slim’s” father, whom 
the boy worshiped. Once he had to undergo 
a serious abdominal operation. He went 
through it without an anesthetic. Indeed, he 
is reported to have devoted the period of the 
ordeal to talking about the Federal Reserve 
system with a friend who sat at his side. 

“Slim” spent much time with his father, and 
a very deep friendship, something more than 
the usual relation of father and son, grew 
between them. ‘They were farmer folk, these 
Lindberghs, and it may have been in recogni- 
tion of this, with a remembrance, too, of the 
indissoluble bond between father and son, that 
caused the former to ask that when he should 
die the son of so many of his living hours 
should be the one to dispose of his ashes. 

The elder Lindbergh died in 1924. By that 
time the son had begun to make something of 
a name for himself as an air pilot, and as such 
he carried out his father’s wish. He bore his 
ashes aloft in his plane and scattered them over 


[42] 


OOVDIHD OL SINOT “LG LHDITY Lsuly 
HOUAGGNIT ‘“LdvQ AG GaWUVD WALLAT Tv. WV 


“ON[ ‘SOLOHG OILNVILV 3 OlWIOVd LZ6T O 


Capt. LINDBERGH BIDDING COMMANDER BYRD AND CLARENCE 
CHAMBERLIN Goop-ByE JUsT BEFORE THE START 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


the family homestead at Little Falls and over 
the lands which had yielded such fertile begin- 
nings. 

While ‘Slim’ was a pupil in the University 
of Wisconsin, devoting himself impartially to 
books and experimentation in mechanical engi- 
neering, his mind was ever upon flying. The 
sight of men roaring through the air in man- 
made contrivances went deeper into his imag- 
ination than any one believed. He understood 
motors and had diverted himself with his ice 
boat equipped with a motorcycle engine and a 
plane propeller, and the thing had gripped 
him. 

It was in 1921 that he left the university, 
determined to become an air pilot. He was 
then nineteen years old and already “Slim” to 
the few he admitted to friendship. There was 
a flying school in Lincoln, Neb., and thither the 
youngster went. He arrived there with some- 
thing still of the rustic about him, and applied 
for tuition. The instructors looked at the 
gangling youth, smiled, perhaps, and went at 
the task of teaching him. 
~ What “Slim” Lindbergh did was to give: 
them the surprise of their lives. They had 

[43] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


quite overlooked something in the face of the 
youth, in the level eyes, in the determined chin, 
but they found it in his uncanny aptitude with 
planes, in the instinctive touch he established 
with any of the instruction “‘busses.”’ He had 
‘fair sense,” “Slim” had. 

But before his instructors would permit him 
to fly “‘solo,” which, obviously, means alone, 
they told him he must put up a $500 bond. 
That sounded like nonsense to ‘‘Slim,’’ because 
he felt that he could fly “solo” without any 
bond. So he left the school—and from that 
moment was “on his own.” 

He had been taught the rudiments of flying, 
but his unusual sixth sense doubled the value 
of what he had learned. Parachute jumping 
had been part of the curriculum, yet little did 
“Slim” realize then in what good stead his 
experience and his coolness at it were to stand 
him in the years to come. 

Real flying was now what he was determined 
to undertake, because nothing else so engrossed 
him, so caught his imagination. Furthermore 
he had unbounded confidence in himself. He 
just knew that he was cut out to be an air 
pilot. 

[44] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


So the summer of .1922 found him in the 
Far West doing stunt flying and parachute 
jumping in whatever plane could be furnished 
him. He was in Billings, Mont., that summer, 
flying and leaping to earth to advertise the 
garage of one Robert Westover. And it must 
be said that “Slim” was “traveling light’’ in 
those days. Westover declared that every- 
thing “Slim” owned he carried in the capacious 
pockets of his flying suit. Nor did the pockets 
have to be so roomy, for Westover said they 
held little more than a handkerchief and a 
toothbrush. ‘‘Slim” didn’t have even a valise. 
The clothes in which he stood, his helmet and 
his goggles were his entire kit. 

Those were the days in which he perfected 
himself in his control of planes. He flew any 
design that was offered to him and became 
known in the West for the daring of his 
Hstuntenuieden did. the. “falling \ leat the 
‘“Immelmann turn,” “barrels,” “spinning nose 
dives,” “rolls,” ‘loops’ and ‘‘cart wheels,” 
everything which could thrill an audience. And, 
dearer far to the pilot, he made perfect land- 
ings. 

This was “Slim’s” apprenticeship ‘in the 


[45] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


sticks,” before he was much more than a “‘barn- 
storming” youth, but pledged to his appointed 
task. He profited by it to the fullest degree, 
both in experience and in whatever of pecuniary 
things it afforded him. He saved what he 
earned, he neither drank nor smoked, he kept 
to himself. 

As time proved, he was saving all he could, 
with one object: to buy a plane of his own, 
something on which he could expend an even 
greater affection than that he had given to the 
boat in the woods, the ice boat or even the dog 
of his boyhood. 

That day came to him when there was 
an army salvage sale at Americus, Ga., in 
March, 1923. The army was disposing of 
what it did not need, of what it could not use. 
It may not have been a very tempting array of 
equipment, but ‘Slim’ found in it a training 
plane that appealed to him. He looked over 
the “bus” carefully, inspected the motor, the 
controls and all the rest of it, and then and 
there bought it. Whatever it was, it was his. 

It was a Curtiss “Jenny,” and after “Slim” 
had tinkered with it to his heart’s content, he 
started off barnstorming again. He flew from 


[46] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


county fair to county fair, doing “stunts” for 
the countryside and taking the venturesome 
ones aloft. And thus he made his livelihood. 

While he was thus winging his way about, 
an eaglet then, he dropped in at Selfridge 
Field, at Mount Clemens, Mich., and Brook 
Field, San Antonio, Tex. There he came 
across planes of new design and efficiency, 
refined descendants of those to which he had 
been accustomed, and they instantly interested 
him. He spent every moment he could spare 
in studying them. ‘They were further spurs to 
his imagination. ‘Those were the planes he 
wanted to fly. 

The eaglet craved to be an eagle and fly into 
the sun. 


[47] 


CHAPTER V 
VARIED FLYING ENGAGEMENTS 


ALTHOUGH in his winged farings about the 
country, especially at the army flying fields, 
“Slim” Lindbergh was frequently encountering 
planes of improved design and high efficiency 
in speed and airworthiness, he had to be con- 
tent for a time at least with the Curtiss “Jenny” 
he had bought at the army salvage sale in 
Americus, Ga. It was not what he wanted, 
after seeing those other finer and more efficient 
planes, but he had purchased it with his savings 
and, furthermore, it had borne him safely 
through many leagues of air and provided him 
with a livelihood. 

The months went by and “Slim” kept on his 
way, doing “‘stunt’’ flying at county fairs, 
making parachute jumps and, above all, greatly 
increasing his knowledge of the air. He was 
known for his daring, for his willingness to go 

[48] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


aloft even when there was obvious danger in 
the upper levels so that an audience might not 
be disappointed. He was not willing to admit 
to any one or to himself that there was any- 
thing he would not do, or that he could not 
make his plane do. 

One day “Slim” read the announcement of 
International Air Races to be held at St. Louis, 
beginning Oct. 3, 1923. By this time he had 
flown his “Jenny” for seven months and come 
to know her like a book. His flying experi- 
ence had extended over nearly two years. 
Why not enter the races? he asked himself. 

His answer was given when, on the opening 
day of the international meet, the “Jenny,” 
service-worn, patched, paintless, a rather 
shabby old bird soared over Lambert-St. Louis 
Field and came to so easy: and graceful a land- 
ing that even the veterans noted it. 

Out of its cockpit climbed a gangling youth 
in grease-stained flying clothes—Charles A. 
Lindbergh. In all likelihood there was not a 
person on the field who had ever heard of him. 
When he gave his name he was probably asked 
to repeat it, even spell it. One who saw him 
that day thus describes him: 

[49] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


‘“‘FTe was a shy, retiring youth with the look 
of the rustic about him that he has lost only in 
the past few months. His helmet seemed to 
set too high on his head, his overalls were too 
short and his coat appeared designed not to 
reach his waistline. 

“But beneath his boyish awkwardness there 
was a magnificent frame clothed with lean 
muscles and driven by a will that knew no 
fatigue. His eyes were clear china-blue and 
his ruddy cheeks bespoke much life out-of- 
doors.” 

During that meet, ‘Slim’? gave many exhibi- 
tions of his courage in the air, amazing sea- 
soned pilots with his stunts in what seemed to 
them a plane that might come apart any. minute 
if the basting threads pulled out. 

In the course of the program ‘Slim’ took 
up Harlan Gurney, who is now a pilot for the 
Robertson Aircraft Corporation, for a para- 
chute jump. When Gurney landed he broke 
his arm. Immediately “Slim” sold the “Jenny,” 
never flew it again, and remained all that winter 
in St. Louis, awaiting Gurney’s recovery. 

But this was only a brief interval in ‘‘Slim’s” 
air activities. Nothing would do but that he 

[50] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


must get back into a “‘bus.”” He had no plane 
now, and, at any rate, he had quite exhausted 
the possibilities of his old “Jenny.” He 
wanted bigger, newer craft, and wider experi- 
ence, a real “college education” in flying. 

He knew that the place to get it was in the © 
army, so on March 15, 1924, he enrolled as a 
cadet in the army’s primary training school at 
Brook Field, San Antonio. 

In order to get to Brook Field in what he 
believed to be the proper, fitting way, “Slim” 
had bought a plane that seemed to be on its 
last wings. It was a poor relation of the 
vjenny..> When “Slim”: came, to earth he 
disentangled himself from the cockpit and 
strolled away, leaving the plane on the field in 
its unprepossessing loneliness. 

One of the training officers came out of a 
hangar just at that instant and caught sight of 
the tatterdemalion airplane on the field. Half 
the fabric was off the lower wing and he stared 
at it in amazement. 

“Ffere,”’ he called to several mechanics 
standing near by, “get that thing off the field 
before somebody tries to fly it and kills him- 
self. ‘Take it away and junk it.” 

[51] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


“Slim” heard, smiled in that attractive way 
of his and strode over to the ragged plane. 
Without a word he clambered into the cockpit, 
took off and in a moment was in the air. When 
he had shown that a few missing feet of wing- 
covering amounted to nothing if the plane was 
a friend of his, he came down. 

Such was “‘Slim’s’’ entrance into the army, 
and in the year he was under tuition by: the 
experts of the service, he became the ace of his 
class, because he was a bird among fledglings. 
Even when he told his instructors that he had 
been flying nearly three years, they were 
astounded at his skill. As soon as he had fin- 
ished such of the air course as was provided at 
Brook Field, ‘‘Slim” was ordered to the pursuit 
school at Kelly Field, also in Texas. There he 
realized his most treasured wish, to fly the 
newest, fastest and highest-powered planes in 
the army’s equipment. 

It was while “Slim’’ was at Kelly Field that 
he received an air baptism which actually saved 
his life. Incidentally it made him eligible for 
membership in the ‘Caterpillar Club,” prob- 
ably one of the most exclusive organizations in 
the United States. How does one become a 


[52] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


member? By: surviving a forced emergency 
leap from a plane in flight by means of a para- 
chute. 

“Slim” was graduated from Kelly Field on 
March 15, 1925, and had his picture taken in 
the uniform of a reserve Second Lieutenant in 
the Air Corps, but just nine days before that 
he became a ‘“‘Caterpillar.” 

On March 6 he went up to fly as part of a 
formation in combat maneuvers over the 
field. The height was 5,000 feet. The 
student problem was for “Slim” in his plane, 
and Lieut. C. D. McCallister in his, to attack a 
larger plane, designated as the enemy. 

Both pilots dove for the ‘‘enemy”’ with every 
ounce of power they had and ‘Slim’ and 
McCallister collided in mid-air. 

This has spelled death to more than one 
aviator, but by a miracle, both “Slim” and 
McCallister survived it. What happened that 
eventful day is certainly best described by quot- 
ing ‘‘Slim’s’”’ own report to the “Caterpillars.” 
All his brother flyers recognize in it the cool, 
_ rapid-thinking brain of “Slim’”’ Lindbergh. 

This is “‘Slim’s” own story to the officials of 
what occurred: 


[53] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


“A nine-ship SE-5 formation, commanded 
by Lieut. Blackburn, was attacking a De Havi- 
land 4-B, flown by Lieut. Russell Maughan 
(dawn to dusk pilot) at about 5,000-foot 
altitude and several hundred feet above the 
clouds. I was flying on the left of the top 
unit, Lieut. McCallister on my right and Cadet 
Love leading. When we nosed down on the 
DH, I attacked from the left and Lieut. 
McCallister from the right. After Cadet Love 
pulled up I continued to dive on the DH for a 
short time before pulling up to the left. I saw 
no other ship nearby. 

“T passed above the DH and a moment 
later felt a slight jolt, followed by a crash. 
My head was thrown forward against the 
cowling and my plane seemed to turn around 
and hang nearly motionless for an instant. I 
closed the throttle and saw an SE-5 with Lieut. 
McCallister in the cockpit a few feet away on 
my left. He was apparently unhurt and get- 
ting ready to jump. 

“Our ships were locked together with the 
fuselages approximately parallel. My right 
wing was damaged and was folded back 
slightly, covering the forward right-hand 

[54] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


corner of the cockpit. Then the ships started 
to mill around and the wires began whistling. 
The right wing commenced vibrating and strik- 
ing my head at the bottom of each oscillation. 
I removed the rubber band safetying the belt, 
unbuckled it, climbed out past the trailing edge 
of the damaged wing, and with my feet on the 
cowling on the right side of the cockpit, which 
was then in a nearly vertical position, I jumped 
backward as far from the ship as possible. 

“T had no difficulty in locating the pull-ring 
and experienced no sensation of falling. The 
wreckage was falling nearly straight down and 
for some time I fell in line with its path. 
Fearing the wreckage might fall on me, I did 
not pull the rip-cord until I had dropped several 
hundred feet and into the clouds. 

“During this time I had turned one-half 
revolution and was falling flat and face down- 
ward. The parachute functioned perfectly; 
almost as soon as I pulled the rip-cord the 
risers jerked on my shoulders, the leg straps 
tightened, my head went down and the chute 
was fully opened. 

“T saw Lieut. McCallister floating above me 
and the wrecked ships pass about 100 yards to 


[55] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


one side, continuing to spin to the right and 
leaving a trail of lighter fragments along their 
path. I watched them until, still locked 
together, they crashed in the mesquite about 
2,000 feet below and burst into flames several 
seconds after impact. 

“Next I turned my: attention to locating a 
landing place. I was over mesquite and drift- 
ing in the general direction of a ploughed field, 
which I reached by slipping the chute. Shortly 
before striking the ground, I was drifting back- 
ward, but was able to swing around in the 
harness just as I landed on the side of a ditch 
less than roo feet from the edge of the 
mesquite. 

“Although the impact of the landing was 
too great for me to remain standing, I was not 
injured in any way. The parachute was still 
held open by the wind and did not collapse until 
I pulled in one group of the shroud lines. 

“During my descent I lost my goggles, a 
vest-pocket camera, which fitted tightly in my 
hip pocket, and the rip-cord of the parachute.” 


[56] 


Ee — 


CHAPTER VI 
JOINING THE CATERPILLAR CLUB 


HOWEVER many orders were pinned upon 
“Slim” Lindbergh’s breast during his triumphal 
progress about Europe, however, he may be 
honored by great chiefs of state and their eager 
people, he bears one distinction which has, as 
yet, come to no other living man. 

It carries with it no ribboned trinket, no 
formal citation, no pomp of parade. It brings 
heartbeats, but no drumbeats. It is four-time 
membership in the “Caterpillar Club,” and can 
be conferred only by that watchful, wayward 
goddess, Chance. It means that “Slim” Lind- 
bergh has four times saved his life by leaping 
with a parachute from a plane in flight. 

The name of this club is derived from the 
courageous peculiarity of certain caterpillars in 
dropping from trees or other elevations upon 
a fine-spun thread of gossamer. It was founded 


[57] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


in the United States Army Air Service on Oct. 
20, 1922, by Lieut. H. R. Harris, who, on that 
day, made the first forced jump in the Air 
Service in which a chute saved a life. It was 
after his leap, imperative when one of his wings 
dropped off at a height of 2,500 feet, that the 
general order, still effective, was issued, “All 
pilots must wear parachutes on all flights.” 

In an earlier chapter, ‘‘Slim’s”’ first leap was 
recounted. It happened on March 6, 1925, 
just nine days before he was graduated from 
the army’s advanced flying school at Kelly 
Field, Tex., as a Reserve Second Lieutenant in 
the Air Corps. 

The second leap occurred at Bridgeton Field 
in St. Louis County, just beyond the city of that 
name, on June 2, 1926. 

“Slim” gave up all thought of army flying 
after his graduation, though he had himself 
photographed in his Lieutenant’s uniform and, 
leaving Kelly Field, fared back to St. Louis. 
There, a while, he flew whatever planes he 
could get, doing stunts, adding at every oppor- 
tunity to his experience in the air. When he 
had put himself through another self-imposed 
course in aeronautics he obtained a Standard 


[58] | 


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4 


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B. F. MAHONEY C. L. LAWRENCE Capt. C. A. LINDBERGH 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


plane and went barnstorming again in the 
West. This was another round of exhibition 
flights at county fairs. 

Upon his return to St. Louis he joined the 
Missouri National Guard, 35th Division Air 
Corps, and by December, 1925, was promoted 
to a Captaincy in the Reserve and Flight Com- 
mander of the r1oth Observation Squadron. 
This accounts for his title of Capt. Charles 
A. Lindbergh, which is so belied by his boyish 
mien. In fact, he was a Captain at twenty- 
three! 

It was at this time that ‘‘Slim” began to take 
things a bit more seriously, that is, if any one 
of such youthful exuberance of temperament 
could be said to do so, and in October, 1925, 
he went to Lambert-St. Louis Field to work 
for the Robertson Aircraft Corporation. His 
skill in the air was acknowledged, but he will 
ever be remembered by his associates in the 
organization by his daring riding of a motor- 
cycle. He flashed about the neighborhood like 
a roaring comet, and that his neck is still func- 
tioning, is held to be due only to the leniency of 
that same goddess, Chance. 

During this period there was contemplated 


[59] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


the establishment of an air mail route between 
St. Louis and Chicago. ‘The Robertson organ- 
ization desired to bid for the contract, so 
“Slim,” with Philip R. Love, who had been a 
classmate at Kelly Field, and Jack Worth- 
ington, now Lieutenant and Airway Extension 
Superintendent at Hadley Air Field, near New 
Brunswick, N. J., were told off to “look over 
the ground” and report. 

Their report was the one on which the air 
‘route was established. It was the one over 
which “Slim” Lindbergh flew as the first air 
pilot to carry mail between these two cities. 

His experiences as a pilot on this run, 
will be chronicled later, but this time brings 
one to the second parachute jump. It was 
perhaps the most hazardous of all the four. 

There was an aeronautical engineer of the 
name Ben Belle, who had constructed a small 
“bus” which he expected to place on the market 
for commercial purposes if it survived the tests 
to be imposed on it. “Slim” volunteered to 
make these tests in the air. His determination 
was to subject it to whatever stresses it would 
be compelled to withstand in service. It was, 
as ‘‘Slim’’ intended it, a “stunt” flight, some- 


[60] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


thing to disclose any weaknesses in the struc- 
tural design of the plane. 

The first day: that ‘Slim’ flew the new plane 
was without incident. He was merely seeking 
to establish a “friendship” with the ‘“‘bus.” 
This accomplished, ‘Slim’ determined that he 
would put the machine through all its possible 
paces. In other words, he would “‘stunt’’ it. 

“Slim” took the plane up the next day— 
June 2, 1926—and proceeded to do with it 
everything which he thought a plane should be 
able to do—a pilot able to do. He carried it 
through loops and spins and dives and the like, 
and then, when he had zoomed it to an altitude 
of 2,500 feet, he let it drop into a tail-spin. 

He was sure that he could get it out of this, 
but when he tried the controls the “‘bus”’ failed 
to respond. Something jammed somewhere. 
“Slim” tugged at them, he summoned to his aid 
all he had learned of flying, seeking to turn the 
plane’s nose into a dive and save himself and 
the “bus.” But nothing availed. 

The plane dropped down earthward, ‘‘Slim” 
doing his utmost. And there was no response. 

He dropped out of control and when he 
came down to within 300 feet of the earth he 


[6r] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


felt it was time to do something for himself 
as he had done all he could for the plane. It 
was impossible to get it out of the dangerous 
tail-spin. Now it was for him to get himself 
out of his difficulty. 

By the time he had decided to do this the 
plane was still further earthward, so all that 
remain for him was to desert it and trust to his 
parachute. But he was within dangerous 
distance from the earth. Parachute jumpers 
are much more pleased with high altitudes, for 
these give the chute a chance to open properly. 

“Slim,” however, decided, in one of those 
quick instants of decision for which he is noted, 
to trust to the opening of the chute, even at so 
slight an altitude. So he went over the side 
and jerked the rip-cord of his parachute as 
soon as he fell clear of the plane. 

Fortunately the parachute opened just below 
the plane. “Slim” swung, pendulum-wise, 
back and forth, watching the ‘“‘bus’’ crash. It 
dropped into a roadway and was demolished. 
“Slim” had far better luck. He alighted in a 
back yard on his back. 

Mechanics from the field hastened to his aid, 
because they do not see how a man could expect 


[62] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


to survive a parachute drop of less than three 
hundred feet. 

When they reached him “Slim” was on his 
feet, looking around. Blood was flowing from 
his mouth and nose, because he had hit the 
ground with no uncertain force. Also, the 
wind had been knocked out of him, and he was 
just beginning to breathe anything like nor- 
mally. 

The parachute harness was still strapped to 
him and as the mechanics loosened it he smiled 
with the now famous Lindbergh smile and 
said: 

‘That was a little close, wasn’t it?’ And 
then: “I just couldn’t get it out of the tail-spin. 
There must be something wrong with it. 
Defective design somewhere.”’ 

When the doctors looked over ‘‘Slim” at the 
flying field it was found that he had a badly 
wrenched shoulder, but he paid as little heed to 
it as a man can, and within two hours he was 
in the cockpit of another plane, flying with’ the 
same nonchalance, same disregard for theelaws 
of gravitation as he had always had. 

This was “Slim’s’ second unintentional 
application for membership in the “Caterpillar 

[63] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


Club.”’ He didn’t know it, but he was decreed 
by Fate to make two other applications. 

The third leap from a winging plane was 
the most thrilling of all, because it came nearest 
of all to ending him and his activities. He was 
flying a mail plane at the time, and—but as his 
record reads like the most carefully planned, 
almost impossible romance, there is surely 
cause enough to say just here, in the words of 
the veriest of old-time thrillers: “Continued in 
our next.” 


[64] 


CHAPTER VII 
MORE HAIRRAISING ESCAPES 


THE third time that “Slim” Lindbergh was 
permitted by fate to save his life with a para- 
chute was while he was on one of his flights as 
an air mail pilot. He was then in the service 
of the Robertson Aircraft Corporation, which 
was headed by Major William Robertson, 
former army air pilot, and one of “Slim’s”’ 
closest friends and patrons. 

It happened on Sept. 16, 1926, and if the 
goddess Chance had not been alertly watching 
the youth, ‘Slim’ Lindbergh would never have 
made the New York-Paris flight. 

“Slim” was on the St. Louis-Chicago route, 
the one which, in fact, he inaugurated and on 
which he made so enviable a reputation for 
speed and skill. The flight course lay from 
Lambert-St. Louis Field to Maywood, Chi- 
cago’s air mail port. 

[65] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


That day ‘‘Slim” took off from the St. Louis 
port at 4:25 o'clock in the afternoon. He 
went first to Springfield, which he reached at 
5:10, and thence to Peoria, arriving there 
forty-five minutes later. All this was unevent- 
ful enough, steady, easy flying, almost monot- 
onous. 

Then came the departure from Peoria Field 
at 6:10 o'clock. A light haze hung over the 
ground, but the sky was clear with a high 
“ceiling”? of scattered cumulous clouds. “Slim” 
got off in his accustomed good shape and ran 
into the darkness about twenty-five miles north- 
east of Peoria. 

It was necessary now for the pilot to take up 
a compass course, checking it by the lights of 
the communities over which he flew. But this 
was soon made impossible by a fog which rolled 
in under the “bus” when “Slim” was a short 
distance northeast of Marseilles and the Illinois 
River. 

“The fog,” “Slim” wrote in his report, 
“extended from the ground up to about 600 
feet, and as I was unable to fly under it, I 
turned back and attempted to drop a flare and 
land. The flare did not function and I again 

[66] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


headed for Maywood, hoping to find a break 
in the fog over the field there. 

“T continued on a compass course of 50 
degrees until 7:15, when I saw a dull glow on 
the top of the fog. This indicated a town 
below. There were several of these light 
patches on the fog, visible only when looking 
away from the moon, and I knew them to be 
towns bordering Maywood.” 

However, ‘Slim’ was unable to locate the 
exact position of the Maywood field, although 
he learned later that mechanics there had heard 
the roar of his motor and not only turned three 
powerful lights on the sky, but burned two 
barrels of gasoline in an effort to attract his 
attention. But the fog was too dense to make 
the signals avail. 

“Several times,” ‘‘Slim’s” report went on, “TI 
descended to the top of the fog, which was 800 
to 900 feet high, according to my altimeter. 
The sky above was clear, with the exception of 
scattered clouds, and the moon and stars were 
brightly: shining. 

‘After circling around for. thirty-five minutes 
I headed west to be sure of clearing Lake 
Michigan and in an attempt to pick up one of 

[67] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


the lights on the trans-continental air course. 

“Flying westward for fifteen minutes and 
seeing no break I turned to the southwest, 
hoping to strike the edge of the fog south of 
the Illinois River. My engine quit at 8:28 
o'clock and I cut in the reserve. At that time 
I was up only 1,500 feet and, as the engine did 
not pick up as soon as | expected, I shoved the 
flashlight in my belt and was about to release 
the parachute flare and jump, when the engine 
finally took hold again. A second trial showed 
the main tank to be dry and, accordingly, a 
maximum of twenty minutes’ flying time left. 

‘There was not an opening anywhere in the 
fog and I decided to leave the ship as soon as 
the reserve tank was exhausted. I tried to get 
the mail pit open, with the idea of throwing out 
the mail sacks and then jumping, but I was 
unable to open the front buckle. I knew that, 
with no gasoline in the tanks, the risk of fire 
was very slight, so I began to climb for altitude. 
Then, suddenly, I saw a light on the ground for 
several seconds. 

“This was the first light I had seen for nearly 
two hours, and as almost enough gasoline for 
fifteen minutes’ flying remained in the reserve, 

[68] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


I glided down to 1,200 feet and pulled out the 
flare release cable as nearly as I could judge 
over the spot where the light had appeared. 
This time the flare functioned, but it served 
only to illuminate the top of a solid bank of 
fog, into which it soon disappeared, without 
showing any trace of the ground.” 

It is clearly to be seen that ‘Slim’ Lind- 
bergh kept his wits, all of them, about him 
when he knew he was in sore straits in a fog 
in a dying plane, and with only the haziest idea 
of where he and‘ the “‘bus’’ were. But, to go 
on with the report: 

‘Seven minutes of gasoline remained in the 
gravity tank. Seeing the glow of a town 
through the fog I turned toward the open 
country and nosed the plane up. 

“At 5,000 feet the engine sputtered and 
died. I stepped out on the cowling and out 
over the right side of the cockpit, pulling the 
rip-cord after a hundred-foot fall. 

‘The parachute, an Irving seat service type, 
functioned perfectly. I was falling head down- 
ward when the risers jerked me into an upright 
position, and the chute opened. This time I 
saved the rip-cord. 

[69] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


“T pulled the flashlight from my: belt and 
was playing it down toward the top of the fog 
when I[ heard the engine pick up. When I 
jumped it had practically stopped dead and I 
had neglected to cut the switches. Apparently 
when the ship nosed down an additional supply 
of gasoline drained to the carburetor. Soon 
she came into sight about a quarter of a mile 
away headed in the general direction of my 
parachute. 

‘T put the flashlight in a pocket of my flying 
suit, preparatory to slipping the parachute out 
of the way if necessary. The plane was making 
a left spiral of about a mile diameter and 
passed approximately 300 yards away from my 
chute, leaving me on the outside of the circle. 

“I was undecided whether the plane or I was 
descending the more rapidly, and I guided my 
chute away from the spiral path of the ship 
as rapidly as I could. 

‘The ship passed completely out of sight, but 
reappeared in a few seconds, its rate of descent 
being about the same as that of the parachute. 
I counted five spirals, each one a little further 
away than the last, before reaching the top of 
the fog bank. | 

[70] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 
‘When I settled into the fog I knew that the 


ground was within 1,000 feet and reached for 
the flashlight, but found it to be missing. I 
could see neither earth nor stars and had no 
idea what kind of territory was below. I 
crossed my legs to keep from straddling a 
branch or wire, guarded my face with my hands 
and waited. 

“Presently I saw the outline of the ground 
and a moment later was down in a cornfield. 

‘The corn was over my head and the chute 
was lying on top of the cornstalks. I hurriedly 
packed it and started down a corn row. ‘The 
ground visibility was about 100 yards. In a 
few minutes I came to a stubble field and some 
wagon tracks, which I followed to a farmyard 
a quarter of mile away. 

“After reaching the farmyard I noticed 
automobile headlights playing over the road- 
side. Thinking that some one might have 
located the wreck of the plane I walked over 
to the car. The occupants asked whether I 
had heard an airplane crash, and it required 
some time to explain to them that I had been 
piloting the plane and was searching for it 
myself. I had to display the parachute as 

[71] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


evidence before they were thoroughly con- 
vinced. 

‘The farmer was sure, as were most others 
in a three-mile radius, that the ship had just 
missed his house and crashed nearby. In fact, 
he could locate within a few rods the spot 
where he heard it hit the ground. So we spent 
an unsuccessful quarter-hour hunting for the 
wreck in that vicinity before going to the farm- 
house to arrange for a searching party and 
telephone St. Louis and Chicago. 

“T had just put in the long distance calls 
when the telephone rang and we were notified 
that the plane had been found in a cornfield 
over two miles away. 

‘Tt took several minutes to reach the site 
of the crash, due to the necessity for slow 
driving through the fog, and a small crowd had 
already assembled when we arrived. The 
plane was wound up in a ball-shaped mass. It 
had narrowly missed one farmhouse and had 
hooked its left wing in a grain shock a quarter 
of a mile beyond. 

‘The ship had landed on the left wing and 
wheel and skidded along the ground for 80 
yards, going through one fence before coming 


[72] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


to rest on the edge of a cornfield about 100 
yards short of a barn. ‘The mail pit was laid 
open and one sack of mail was on the ground. 
The mail, however, was uninjured. 

‘The Sheriff from Ottawa arrived and we 
took the mail to the Ottawa post office, to be 
entrained at 3:30 A.M. for Chicago.” 

And that was the third time ‘‘Slim” saved 
his life with a leap off into space and faith in a 
parachute. 


[73] 


CHAPTER VIII 
A FOURTH PARACHUTE ESCAPE 


Ir would seem to be enough to satisfy Fate 
or Chance, or whatever it is that presides over 
human destiny, that “Slim” Lindbergh should 
have made three successful parachute leaps 
from moving planes, and yet he was to experi- 
ence a fourth, and come out of it practically 
uninjured, though his plane was almost demol- 
ished. 

This leap occurred Noy. 3, 1926, while he 
was flying one of Major Robertson’s mail 
ships. He was in flight at night from Lambert- 
St. Louis Field with a cargo of mail for 
Chicago. When he reached a point south of 
Peoria, Ill., he ran into a rain which soon 
changed to snow, and all view of the earth was 
blotted out in no time. 

For three hours he winged his way about 
in the obscurity, seeking vainly to discern a 


[74] 


DISTINGUISHED FLYING CROSS 
Presented by the PRESIDENT 
OF THE UNITED STATES 


LEGION OF HONOR 
Presented by the 
PRESIDENT OF FRANCE 


AIR FORCE CROSS 
Presented by the ORDER OF LEOPOLD 


ese Presented by the 
KING OF ENGLAN 
G > KING OF BELGIUM 


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HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


landing spot, and then he was confronted with 
a rapidly draining fuel tank. ‘The only solace 
he could get out of the predicament was that he 
had a parachute strapped to his back, and 
knowledge that already three times the device 
had saved his life. 

“Slim” waited until the last sputter of his 
motor told him he was due for a leap, and then, 
at an altitude of about 13,000 feet, he climbed 
out of the cockpit, consigned himself to Chance, 
and sprang as far into space and away from the 
plane as his muscular legs would permit him. 

The chute functioned perfectly and ‘‘Slim’’ 
came down on a barbed wire fence skirting a 
field near Bloomington, Ill. Beyond a few 
scratches and some holes in his flying suit, 
‘‘Slim” was as good as new. 

As soon as he could extricate himself and 
pack up his parachute “Slim” gathered a 
number of farmers in the neighborhood and 
searched for the plane. They found it after 
several hours of searching, and while the mail 
was intact, ‘‘Slim” realized that the ship could 
not be flown until overhauled. So he hurried 
to a train for Chicago, got a reserve plane, flew 
back and salvaged the mail pouches. These he 

[75] , 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


loaded into his new ‘“‘bus” and in a brief time 
was in Chicago, the mail delayed but safe. 

Thus “Slim” Lindbergh became a four-time 
member of the “Caterpillar Club,” that most 
exclusive of pilot organizations, the qualifica- 
tion for membership in which is certainly some- 
what more exacting than that in the Order of 
the Garter. 

In making his 13,000-foot leap from a mov- 
ing plane at night ‘Slim’ established a record 
for descent from a disabled plane, set a mark 
for all other pilots to ‘‘shoot at,” and further 
secured his position as Ace of the ‘‘Cater- 
pillars.” 

At another time “Slim” had a narrow squeak 
in getting out of disaster. It was on Sept. 30, 
1926, when he was on the last leg of a mail- 
carrying journey from St. Louis to Chicago. 
He took off from the airport at Springfield, 
{ll., and had risen only 150 feet in the air when 
the throttle of the plane broke. 

There was nothing for “Slim” to do but 
come down. A parachute was, naturally, out 
of the question. What he should save of him- 
self and his ‘‘bus” remained with his skill in 

[76] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


making a forced landing from an elevation 
perilously near to the ground. 

Ahead of him “Slim” spied an open clover 
field, and he made for it, nursing the ship down, 
and, probably, praying. As he touched earth 
the ground was so soft that his wheels sank 
hub deep into it. 

For an instant it seemed that the plane must 
be upset and surely kill its pilot in the crash. 
But, good fortune, plus the skill with which 
“Slim” made his landing—and he is famous for 
the manner in which he can bring his plane to 
earth—came to hisrescue. ‘The plane skidded, 
slipped and dug up the ground, but kept on an 
even keel. 

And here is what ‘‘Slim” said of this experi- 
ence: “This is the first motor failure that the 
Robertson Aircraft Corporation has had in 240 
trips between St. Louis and Chicago, and it 
was just my luck to have it happen to me.” 

It evidently meant more to him than four 
parachute jumps. 


[77] 


CHAPTER IX 
IN THE AIR MAIL SERVICE 


It was “Slim” Lindbergh who as chief pilot 
for the Robertson Aircraft Corporation inau- 
gurated the air mail between Chicago and St. 
Louis. This was on April 15, 1926. He 
reached Lambert-St. Louis field from Chicago 
at 9:07 o'clock in the morning of that day eight 
minutes ahead of scheduled time. His plane 
carried two pouches of mail, one picked up at 
Peoria and the other at Springfield. The mail 
was delivered to the post office at 10 o'clock. 
His actual flying time for the 265-mile run was 
two and a half hours. 

This flight was in pursuance of contract 
obligation. The ceremonial flight, which was to 
Chicago, occurred the next day when ‘‘Slim’s”’ 
plane, with silver wings and maroon fuselage, 
was christened at the St. Louis air port by 
Myrtle Lambert, the thirteen-year-old daugh- 

[78] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


ter of Major Albert Lambert, who stood 
sponsor. : 

“T christen you St. Louis,” she said. ‘‘May 
your wings never be clipped.”” And with this, 
she strewed flowers upon the plane’s shining 
wings. AQ little later “Slim” took off and went 
roaring into the northwest, with Philip R. Love 
and Major C. R. Wassall, brother mail pilots, 
“on his tail.” 


“Slim” has an uncle, John C. Lodge, who 
was Acting Mayor of Detroit, and a command- 
ing figure in that community. On the day that 
the youngster soared aloft on the first flight 
of the St. Louis-Chicago air mail service, he 
wrote that uncle a letter twenty minutes before 
the take-off which shows clearly that there is 
no such word as “‘maybe’’ in his vocabulary. 

There was precious little in it about the im- 
minent flight, most of the epistle being a boyish, 
family letter, but it contained one phrase which 
strikes the keynote of “‘Slim’s’’ character. He 
wrote of the time of leaving St. Louis and 
added “arriving at Chicago at 7:15 P.M.”’ 

There was no “due at Chicago’”’ nor “due to 
arrive at Chicago,” but just the flat ‘arriving 

[79] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


at Chicago.” He knew absolutely that he 
would reach his terminal within the appointed 
time. And he did. 

This letter, written from the St. Louis Flying 
Field of the Robertson Aircraft Corporation, 
ran thus: 


Dear UNCLE JOHN: 

I am very short of time as I must mail this 
letter in half an hour and must see that my 
plane is ready for flight. 

This will be mailed on the initial flight of 
the contract air mail line between St. Louis 
and Chicago which I am to make to-day at 4:00 
P.M., arriving at Chicago at 7:15 P.M., via 
Peoria, Ill., and Springfield, Ill. 

Everything here indicates a heavy load from 
St. Louis and Springfield. 

I was very sorry that I could not see you and 
Aunt Harriet when I was in Detroit, but I left 
before I had expected to. 

Hoping that you and Aunt Harriet are well 
and enjoying the same spring weather that we 
are having here, I remain, 

As ever, your nephew 
CHARLES A. LINDBERGH. 
[80] 


Wim B. Robertson, Pres. - Frank Hi Robertson, V. Pres. Daniel R. Robertson, Sec’y tc Teas. 


ROBERTSON AIRCRAFT CORPORATION 


FLYING FIELDS AnD WAREMOU?SES 
ANGLUM, MO. 


TELEPHONES St. Louis Flying Field 
: HOUSTON, TEXAS 
Cohutt cave SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS 
fOREST 476 KANSAS CITY, HO, 
NEW ORLEANS, LA, 
APPILIATEO WITH THE 
STANDARD J. I. AIRPLANE Co, 
HOUSTON, FEXAS ANGLUM, MO. 


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LETTER WRITTEN BY LINDBERGH TO HIS GRAND-UNCLE, ACTING MAYOR 
LODGE OF DETROIT, JUST BEFORE STARTING HIS FIRST 
AIR MAIL FLIGHT, ST. LOUIS To CHICAGO 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


Early this spring, ‘Slim’ wrote again to 
this uncle extending an urgent invitation to him 
to come to Chicago to make the flight to St. 
Louis with his nephew. But Mr. Lodge replied 
that the ground in and about Detroit quite suf- 
ficed for his peregrinations, especially as he was 
sixty-three. “I’m too old, sonny,” he replied, 
to which “Slim” rejoined: ‘Well, Uncle, your 
body is no older than your heart.” But even 
this failed to persuade. 


When Lindbergh took the job of carrying 
the mail to Chicago and bringing it back to 
St. Louis he and his fellow pilots on the run, 
Love and Charles P. Nelson, had no idea that 
during the entire winter following inauguration 
of the service they would have to fly without 
the aid of guiding beacons, such as are set up 
at intervals along the trans-continental line. 
As a matter of fact, the lights were not 
installed for several months after the winter 
had set in. But “Slim” and the other two 
winged their way day after day between St. 
Louis and Chicago, taking off at night, with 
only the lights of towns and widely spaced 
lights in farmhouse windows to guide them. 


[82] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


They did it without injury to themselves or 
the loss of a single piece of mail. 

But “Slim,” according to his associates, 
“could fly a trunk lid if it had a motor.” His 
nonchalance about flying, his embarrassment 
at anything like praise, soon became proverbial 
in the little corps of airmen. One example of 
it, following his ’chute jump, his third, de- 
scribed in a former chapter of this chronicle, 
is still talked about in the airport hangars. 

“Slim” had leaped down in the night, found 
his crushed plane, recovered the mail pouches, 
took them to the post office, flung them to the 
floor and said, laconically, ‘“Here’s the Chicago 
mail. It’s about ten minutes late.’ He was 
walking away when he stopped, turned back 
and said: “I wouldn’t have been late but I 
had to leave the plane up in the air.” And 
with that he went out. 

It is not to be assumed, however, that ‘‘Slim’ 
Lindbergh is of the unsociable type, though he 
does say he likes to be alone, especially. in a 
plane. The men who have been associated 
with him in the air mail service will tell you 
that ‘‘Slim”’ is a persistent joker. One of these 
is Lieut. Jack Worthington, Airway Extension 

[83] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


Superintendent at Hadley Field, near New 
Brunswick, N. J. 

“One night at the Lambert-St. Louis Field, 
where ‘Slim’ and I spent a long time together,” 
Worthington said, ‘‘there was a young pilot 
who had just come from the East. ‘Slim’ 
selected him as game for one of his stunts. 
He asked the pilot that night if he’d like to 
go out on a snipe hunt. ‘That’s one of the 
oldest of gags, but the newcomer fell for it. 
‘Slim’ explained that it was one of the favorite 
sports among the pilots, especially as they were 
all fond of snipe. 

‘““‘We knew all about it, of course, so we 
trailed along into the open country for a couple 
of miles or more. ‘Then ‘Slim’ stopped the 
visitor and told him he thought that was a bully 
place for snipe and enough for a dinner could 
be caught without difficulty. 

“Then ‘Slim’ handed the stranger a large 
burlap bag and a lantern, which he lighted. 
‘Now,’ said ‘Slim,’ ‘we’ll go off into the woods 
and scare up the snipe. You hold the bag open 
with the lantern behind it, and when you hear 
us yell turn,the bag in the direction of our 


: ee 
voices and keep it wide open. We'll chase the 


[84] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


birds into it. All you have to do is close the 
bag when they’re in.’ 

“Of course we returned to the hangar and 
that poor pilot sat there holding the bag open 
for three hours. There was murder in his eye 
when he got back, because he woke up after a 
while. But he wouldn’t speak to any of us for 
a week. 

“Once ‘Slim’ discovered that one of the 
mechanics at the St. Louis Field was scared to 
death of bulls. A disabled plane chanced to 
come down one day in a field in which two large 
and gentle cows were grazing. ‘Slim’ hired 
one of them from the farmer for a dollar and 
led it up to the ‘bus’ where the mechanic was 
at work repairing the landing gear. ‘Slim’ 
waited until the man was well under the ship 
and then maneuvered the cow up to about five 
feet of the mechanic. The next instant ‘Slim’ 
let out a yell, ‘Hey, look out for the wild bull! 

‘“The mechanic, in a panic, wriggled around, 
had one look at the cow and, clawing his way 
out from under the ‘bus,’ took it on the run. 
He cleared a six-foot fence in what seemed to 
be one bound.” 

Worthington is high in praise of ‘‘Slim’s”’ 

[85] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


pluck in the air. ‘‘He’s never afraid to take a 
chance,” he said. “I’ve seen him time and 
time again fly in weather that would have dis- 
couraged almost any other pilot. At the May- 
wood Field in Chicago, Lindbergh always 
gathered with the other pilots on a stormy: 
night when the flying weather was almost 
impossible. When the other pilots had given 
up hope of taking off ‘Slim’ would stretch him- 
self, don his flying togs, and in a matter of 
fact tone say, ‘Well, boys, I’m going through,’ 
which meant that he intended to take his mail 
sacks to their destination, weather or no 
weather interfering. 

“He would never hang back and soon the 
roar of his exhaust would tell the others that 
he was winging his way to St. Louis. This was 
not a gesture or a grand stand play on his part, 
for I have seen him take off in all sorts of 
weather.” 


[36] 


CHAPTER X 
BOYHOOD ANECDOTES 


Now that Lindbergh has risen to such un- 
precedented eminence in the world those who 
knew him in his earlier and comparatively 
obscure years recall incidents and anecdotes 
concerning him which have been conjured from 
naturally fading memory by his great achieve- 
ment. 

When he set out from Roosevelt Field for 
the flight to Paris he bore with him a letter of 
introduction from Col. Theodore Roosevelt to 
Ambassador Herrick, which he had obtained 
during an informal visit to Oyster Bay. The 
visit was not for the purpose of getting this 
letter, but to renew a friendship which had 
begun in his boyhood during the time “Slim’s” 
father, the late Charles A. Lindbergh, Sr., was 
in the House of Representatives from Min- 

[87] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


nesota, and a staunch supporter of Theodore 
Roosevelt. ‘‘Slim,”’ whose nickname among 
his classmates was ‘‘Cheese,’’ entered the 
Friends’ School when he was twelve years old. 
The Roosevelt boys had attended the Friends’ 
School and many of their doings there were 
still fresh in memory. 

The boys in their little coterie became known 
as “The Roosevelt Gang,” and it boasted a 
membership of about fifteen. It was a “gang” 
which played all sorts of pranks. No one 
knows this better than Frederick C. Henry, 
proprietor of drug stores in Washington, one 
of which, was within the territory over which 
the ‘‘gang’”’ roamed and was a sort of rendez- 
vous for it. 

It was a most tempting place for the young- 
sters, and on innumerable occasions they 
demonstrated to the amazement of the propri- 
etor the incredible capacity of the boyish 
interior for ice cream sodas. Quentin and 
Kermit Roosevelt were the leading spirits of 
the “gang,” and it was at their invitation that 
many of the gatherings in Henry’s drug store 
occurred. 

When each of the boys had been served with 

[83] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


soda or sundae it was only natural that inquiry 
should be made by the dispenser as to the host 
of the entertainment. And it was Quentin 
Roosevelt who was wont to reply: 

“Charge it to my: father.” 

In time the ice cream soda bill reached such 
proportions that, so the story runs, Henry 
called Mrs. Roosevelt’s attention to it. The 
reply of the President’s wife was that she was 
delighted at the generosity of her sons, and the 
charges, and many succeeding ones of like 
character, were promptly paid. 

The pranks to which “Slim” was given in 
his boyhood are still pursued by him, as this 
chronicle has already told. He indulged in a 
spectacular one only last summer when he was 
doing ‘“‘stunt”’ flying at St. Louis. Only his 
associates and a few friends knew that the air- 
man who was doing such daring things: was 
Charles A. Lindbergh. 

It was during the Mississippi River motor 
boat regatta, and to add to the interest of the 
occasion, Ed Koenig, who was in charge of the 
regatta, asked Major William B. Robertson of 
the St. Louis Flying Club to engage the services 
of an expert plane pilot to race a hydroplane 

[89] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


and also to give the crowd a thrill by doing air 
“stunts.” 

Major Robertson suggested “Slim” Lind- 
bergh, his chief pilot in the St. Louis-Chicago 
Air Mail Service. Koenig asked whether this 
fellow Lindbergh was skilled enough to arouse 
the required thrills. All the Major answered 
was: 

“Try him and you'll see.” 

So ‘Slim’ reported to Koenig the morning 
of the regatta to look over the air arena and 
note its possibilities for “stunts.” Then he 
asked Koenig just what was wanted in the way 
of air tricks. 

‘Do whatever you please,” was the reply, 
‘‘so long as you make the crowd sit up.” 

“All right, Pil try,” was ‘“‘Slim’s” laconic 
answer. 

His “trying’’ was so successful that he kept 
the hearts of the spectators in their mouths. 
He flew under both the Eads and Free Bridges 
again and again. Now and then he swooped 
down until his wheels feathered the water, and 
those who saw this “‘stunt” recalled it vividly 
when they read that during his flight to Paris 

[90] 


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HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


he, according to his own account, flew at times 
only ten feet above the Atlantic. 

High in the air “Slim” looped and spun and 
barreled and risked his neck in countless ways. 
Then, when the race with the hydroplane was 
put on, he beat it easily over a five-mile course. 
To wind up the exhibition he played a prank 
and gave one citizen of St. Louis the experi- 
ence of his life and created no end of amuse- 
ment. 

“Slim” zoomed his plane to a considerable 
altitude and then came down in a steep, daring 
nose dive. He headed his plane directly toward 
a motor cruiser, the Hawk, owned by Ed 
Serrano, which was at anchor in the middle of 
the Mississippi. 

Standing on the deck of the cruiser was S. G. 
Hoffman, intently watching the airman’s antics. 
When he saw the plane driving directly toward 
him he was dead sure it would hit him, so, 
clothes and all, he leaped into the river. 

Of course “Slim” didn’t) hit the cruiser, 
instead nosing up his plane just in time to dart 
over it. Hoffman, swimming around and 
eventually clambering aboard the Hawk, 
admitted the joke was on him. By that time 

[or] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


“Slim” was winging back to the flying field. 

From the earliest of his flying experiences 
Slim” Lindbergh placed the parachute as 
foremost among his flight paraphernalia. He 
learned to know the value of it—attest his 
four-time membership in the Caterpillar 
Club—when Fate demanded of him that he 
take to it or relinquish life. 

‘Slim’? had so much faith in this descending 
device that once he demanded that a passenger 
who flew with him provide himself with one 
in case of mid-air disaster. This passenger 
was Herbert B. Ehler, financial counselor of 
St. John’s Hospital in Long Island City. 

Last October Mr. Ehler was in St. Louis 
and at 3 o'clock one morning he received a 
telegram demanding that he get to Cincinnati 
just as soon as was possible. He knew that 
the quickest way was by air, so he called 
Robertson Field and asked whether a plane 
could take him. 

The reply was that a plane would be ready 
for the flight at 6 o'clock in the morning. The 
name of the pilot was not then disclosed, but it 
chanced to be “Slim” Lindbergh. 

When Mr. Ehler arrived at the flying field 

[92] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


he was told by the pilot that before the flight 
was started he, the pilot, must be assured that 
his passenger was prepared for a parachute 
leap “in case anything happened.” In other 
words, he required that Mr. Ehler make a 
parachute jump then and there if he had never 
made one before. 

Mr. Ehler had never done this, but ‘‘Slim’’ 
was adamant about it. He knew the emer- 
gencies likely to arise, and also the worth of a 
chute in such a case. 

At first there was objection from Mr. Ehler, 
who did not see that he should give a sort of 
professional exhibition in mid-air. But “Slim” 
persisted and finally conquered. Mr. Ehler 
said he would do the jump rather than be 
deprived of the chance to get to Cincinnati in 
the required time. 

So “Slim” took off, a parachute strapped to 
his passenger, and went to a height of 1,500 
feet. When that was reached he signaled to 
Mr. Ehler that he should jump. 

The passenger, trusting to all that “Slim” 
had told him of the efficacy of chutes, recalling 
that he had already made leaps from flying 

[93] 


CHARLES 4. LINDBERGH 


planes, took his nerve in his hands and stepped 
off into space. 

There was no trouble about the opening of 
the parachute and Mr. Ehler came safely to the 
earth. And when he came to it he found Lind- 
bergh already down, waiting for him to make 
the journey to Cincinnati. 

‘‘That’s all there is to it,’ “Slim” said to 
him, ‘‘and now we can hop off for Cincinnati. 
Just remember to do that again if anything 
happens to us.” 

Mr. Ehler said afterward of the trip: 

“The flight to Cincinnati was, in a great 
measure, uneventful, but as we neared the 
landing field Lindbergh zoomed the plane to 
3,000 feet, and then, trusting implicitly in his 
‘bus, dove straight downward. ‘The drop 
continued until we were within 500 feet of the 
airport. ‘[hen in some way, quite paradoxical 
to me, he straightened out, rose like a bird, 
hovered a moment and then came to earth, 
making what I am told is a perfect landing. 

“I had flown a number of times before this, 
but never before had seen such skill in piloting 
a plane to a landing. Lindbergh and I went 
to my hotel, where we had breakfast together. 

[04] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


He impressed me as being a youngster intensely 
interested in aviation and little else. 

“We made the trip from St. Louis to Cin- 
cinnati, a distance of 360 miles, in three hours 
and nine minutes.”’ 


[95] 


CHAPTER XI 
A WONDERFUL EXECUTIVE 


THE one man who, perhaps, knows “Slim” 
Lindbergh better than any one else knows him is 
Major William B. Robertson, head of the 
aircraft corporation bearing his name. It was 
in Major Robertson’s employ that “Slim” rode 
the air with the St. Louis-Chicago mail and 
made so enviable a reputation for skill, re- 
sourcefulness and daring. 

“Slim” is a wonderful executive for all his 
few years,” the Major said the other day while 
he was in New York for a brief visit. “He has 
no end of pluck and surely is an ace in an air- 
plane. He never wastes time over anything 
and has the singular faculty of winning friend- 
ship instead of jealousy. Every pilot associ- 
ated with him likes him, and the mechanics at 
the airports would do anything in the world for 
him. 

[96] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


“By a curious coincidence, the Lincoln 
Standard plane, with its 150-horsepower His- 
pano-Suiza motor, in which ‘Slim’ first flew 
solo and used in stunt flying at the county fairs 
in the West and doing his early barnstorming, 
is* now in St. Louis, owned by a man living 
there. This plane, which ‘Slim’ sold, has passed 
through half a dozen hands since then and 
arrived in St. Louis just before he took-off for 
the flight to New York on his memorable way 
to Paris. ‘Slim’ has always looked upon this 
bust as one of his dearest companions and 
friends. 

‘At the close of one of his stunt-flying tours, 
‘Slim’ found himself in Denver. There he ran 
across a man, owner of a plane, who wanted 
to be flown from the Colorado capital to New 
York for advertising purposes. ‘Slim’ took on 
the job and flew with his employer as far as 
St. Louis. There the man took train for New 
York and as ‘Slim’ had not been paid for his 
services, he was directed to sell the plane, de- 
duct what was due him and forward the bal- 
ance to his erstwhile employer. 

“This was ‘Slim’s’ first look at St. Louis, the 
city to which he was destined to bring so much 

[97] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


distinction by his trans-Atlantic flight. He 
was now determined to take flying a bit more 
seriously than before, and realized that he 
must have more training. And that is what 
sent him to the army’s school at Brook Field in 
Texas. 

‘The first time I ever saw ‘Slim’ was in De- 
cember of 1925, when he came back to St. 
Louis and wandered out to the Robertson Field 
and asked whether he could get a job there 
flying. J told him there was nothing in pros- 
pect just then, but that I could take him on in 
the following February as we were going to 
start a St. Louis-Chicago air mail service. 

‘“T was very much impressed with the young- 
ster—he was only twenty-three then—because 
he was strong, ruddy and possessed of a most 
engaging smile. I did not know very much 
about his flying abilities. He had estimated 
them very modestly when I asked him where 
and when he had been up and how pie train- 
ing he had had. 

‘So in February of 1926 he came to the 
field and I engaged him. I gave him a plane 
and then for a month or more I[ watched him 
both in the air and on the ground, how he han- 

[98] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


dled both himself and his plane and how he 
got along with the other pilots. 

“As a matter of fact, he showed so much, 
both as a pilot and as a man, that I made him 
chief pilot for the mail flight and told him he 
could make his own selection of pilots to share 
the run with him. 

‘Not only did he do this, but he selected 
the nine landing fields between the two cities 
which the Government afterward leased and 
are still maintained by it, well lighted and thor- 
oughly equipped. And since the inauguration 
of the service on April 15, 1926, a plane takes 
off from St. Louis at 4:15 P. M., arriving in 
Chicago at 7:20 o'clock, in time to meet the 
transcontinental mail coming in both directions 
by air. Thus St. Louis can get mail which has 
left New York the night before. 

‘Aside from his great ability as a pilot, 
‘Slim’ is well remembered by his associates for 
his propensity for joking. I remember one of 
his jokes very well, indeed, and so does Bud 
Gurney, who was his roommate at the St. 
Louis flying field. Bud liked noting better than 
to be waited on. He and ‘Slim’ are huge con- 
sumers of ice water, and when the time came 

[99] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


for a new supply, it was always ‘Slim’ who was 
induced to get it for himself and Bud. 

“After a while it occured to ‘Slim’ that he 
was doing all the ice water work, and what 
particularly impressed him was the fact that 
Bud used to drink most. of it. ‘Slim’ would 
look in the pitcher for a drink, and find it 
empty. But he never said a word. 

“One night Bud returned to the room and 
found the pitcher filled. He was extremely 
thirsty, so he caught up the pitcher, put it to 
his lips and took two big swallows. What Bud 
went through immediately after that, and what 
he said, will never be forgotten by him or his 
brother pilots. ‘Slim’ had filled the pitcher 
with kerosene! After that, Bud got his own 
ice water. 

‘When ‘Slim’ was carrying the mail he re- 
ceived a salary of $350 a month, with flying al- 
lowances which brought the sum to $4650. 
When making commercial air trips he always 
received twenty-five per cent of the charges. 
Under his supervision the mail service between 
St. Louis and Chicago involved 589 trips, and 
only fourteen were defaulted, owing to utterly 
impossible flying conditions. ‘Slim’ often went 

[100] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


up when the weather was dangerous for any 
pilot, no matter how skilled. He flew at least 
one-third of the total of 160,000 miles the St. 
Louis-Chicago mail pilots tallied last year. 

‘“As every one now knoasvs, ‘Slim’ made it his 
business to stick by his plane to the bitter end 
and only leave it when his. life was in the bal- 
ance. Four times he has leaped with a para- 
chute from a plane in flight. A plane seemed 
to arouse something closely akin to affection for 
it in ‘Slim’s’ heart. It wouldn’t surprise me to 
learn from him that it gave him almost physi- 
cal pain to have a plane crash. 

‘“‘T remember that once ‘Slim’ stayed with a 
plane until it was a miracle that he survived the 
crash. He was trying out a plane designed by 
Ben Belle, who had put every thing he had into 
the ‘bus.’ ‘Slim’ went up and was putting it 
through such tests as a plane must undergo to 
prove its air worthiness. He let it drop into 
a tail-spin at 2,500 feet, and couldn’t get it 
out. It came to within 300 feet of the earth 
before he knew he’d have to desert it and trust 
to his parachute. 

‘“Though 300 feet is a daring height at which 
to depend on a chute. ‘Slim’ got away with it 


[ror | 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


and landed safely. Of course the plane 
cracked up. ‘Slim’ went to Belle and said, ‘I 
stayed with your plane just as long as I could, 
I’m awfully sorry because I know how much 
that “bus” meant to you. I was thinking of 
you all the way down. And that’s the sort of 
fellow ‘Slim’ Lindbergh is. 

“So ‘Slim’ is coming home on the Memphis. 
Well, he’ll be the happiest man on board, be- 
cause he’ll have new mechanisms to look at and 
study. He loves machinery. And I'll wager 
he’d fire every gun on the cruiser if they’d let 
him.” 

“Slim” Lindbergh is a doughty trencher- 
man. That long, lanky body of his requires 
no small amount of food to fuel it. He was 
one of the chief and most frequent patrons of 
the “hot dog”’ stand at Curtiss Field, where his 
plane was housed before his journey to Roose- 
velt Field for the take-off for Paris. 

Just before he started for Roosevelt Field on 
that eventful morning he had a sausage sand- 
wich and some other food at Louie’s stand. 
Louie insisted that “Slim’’ have it ‘‘on the 
house.”’ But “Slim” said: “Sorry, Louis, but I 
couldn’t do that. If I left owing you that 

[102 | 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


forty-five cents it would worry me all the way 
to Paris.” 

Pilots who know “Slim”’ will tell of his pro- 
digious appetite. In fact, he admitted it was 
his “long suit.” He used to grin while his 
brethren of the air would marvel at his ability 
to eat half a dozen eggs for breakfast and top 
them off with a steak or a big chop. 

One evening ‘‘Slim” had dinner with several 
other flyers in a small restaurant in “‘the Loop”’ 
in Chicago. It was a substantial meal of the 
dollar and a half kind and every one save 
“Slim” appeared to have been quite sated. As 
they left the place it was decided that the party 
would take in a movie show. ‘‘Slim”’ said noth- 
ing ’til they were about to pass an “eat it off 
the arm”’ restaurant. 

“This is where I leave you fellows,” he said 
with a grin as he went through the revolving 
door. His companions watched him and saw 
him seat himself at the counter and give an 
order to the waiter. 


[103] 


CHAPTER XII 
THE $25,000 PRIZE OFFERED 


Any chronicle of ‘‘Slim’’ Lindbergh’s flight 
to Paris should give marked consideration to 
Raymond Orteig, who eight years ago offered 
a prize of $25,000 to the first aviator who 
should make a non-stop flight from New York 
to Paris. 

Mr. Orteig, proprietor of the Brevoort Ho- 
tel and the Hotel Lafayette in New York, two 
widely known hostelries, distinctive resorts for 
Frenchmen in this city, and for friends of 
France and the French among New Yorkers, 
was deeply stirred by the unfaltering courage 
of aviators during the World War. It caught 
his imagination as few things had ever done. 

When in the course of the great conflict 
French military or commercial missions came 
to the United States they sought out the Or- 

[104] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


teig hotels as places of residence during their 
New York visits. In this way he was brought 
into close contact with many distinguished avi- 
ators and these most aroused his interest. 

There was to him something very fine in the 
bravery of these men to whom defeat meant 
death, for whom there was no such thing as 
surrender and who could not even if they would 
give quarter or take it. 

One evening there was a dinner to Eddie 
Rickenbacker, the American ace, and Mr. Or- 
teig attended it. It was during this dinner that 
the idea of offering a substantial prize for the 
first hop to Paris from New York came to his 
mind. 

So the prize of $25,000 was established 
March 22, 1919. 

At the donor’s request the Aero Club of 
America undertook to formulate the conditions 
and to be judge of the award. As, at the end 
of the stipulated five years, no one had won the 
prize, Mr. Orteig renewed his offer. 

About a year ago crack aviators began to 
think seriously of seeking the rich prize. Cap- 
tain Rene Fonck decided to try for it and had 
constructed a specially designed Sikorski bi- 

[105] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


plane. He came to this country to watch the 
final work on the plane, which was built on 
Long Island. 

His navigating partner in the flight was 
Lieut. L. W. Curtain, U.S. N., and on Septem- 
ber 21, 1926, the plane was started along the 
same runway at Roosevelt Field which “Slim” 
used for his epochal takeoff. But the Sikorski 
ship ran only a short distance over the ground, 
then tumbled into a twenty-foot gulley at the 
end of the runway and instantly burst into 
flames. 

Capt. Fonck and Lieut. Curtain managed to 
extricate themselves from the blazing plane, 
but the mechanic, Jacob Islanoff, and the radio 
operator, Charles Clavier, who made up the 
remainder of the crew, were not so fortunate. 
They were trapped in the cabin of the plane 
and killed. 

“Slim” Lindbergh knew all about this, knew 
the difficulty of getting a heavy-laden plane into 
the air and keeping it there, but, for all that, 
he turned his mind with eagerness last autumn 
to attempting the seemingly impossible—the 
flight from New York to Paris. He was at the 
time chief air pilot in the air mail service be- 

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HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


tween St. Louis and Chicago. He had been 
at this work from the time the route was in- 
augurated in April, 1926, and again and again 
demonstrated his air skill. He was known for 
his uncanny ability at navigation, his sense of 
speed and direction and his unqualified confi- 
dence in himself, but with no trace of bragga- 
docio. 

Of one thing “Slim” was actually conscious: 
his boyish appearance and manner. His build 
too was extremely youthful, though he was 
well over six feet in stature. He felt that all 
this would react against him if he sought sup- 
porters for a trans-Atlantic hop. He won- 
dered whether his earnestness and his eagerness 
to make the effort, taken in connection with his 
experience in the air, would serve to overcome 
what he frankly listed as his drawbacks. 

But he was determined to broach his idea to 
some one, and that one was his employer, Ma- 
jor William B. Robertson, head of the aircraft 
corporation carrying the St. Louis-Chicago 
mail and formerly a skilled army pilot. Major 
Robertson knew how good an airman ‘‘Slim”’ 
was, but he realized too what a demand such a 
flight would make upon a pilot and what a 

[107] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


stanch, air-worthy craft would be required 
for it. 

After they had discussed the matter in de- 
tail they decided to ask the advice of a re- 
porter on the St. Louis Post-Dispatch who was 
accounted an authority on aviation. This 
newspaper man enumerated several interests in 
St. Louis which might be induced to support 
such a flight, but he remarked to the youthful 
flyer: 

“You'd better let Major Robertson go 
around for you and present the proposal, 
‘Slim,’ because you look entirely too much like 
a baby. No one in the world who didn’t know 
your ability would ever pick you out to make a 
trans-Atlantic flight.” 

“Slim” knew this only too well. 

“T know that,” he replied. “But I can’t 
help what I look like. One thing I do know, 
though, darn well, and that is that I can fly 
across.” 

This quotation is verbatim, especially the 
“darn,” because that is the utter limit of 
‘‘Slim’s” swearing. 

However, Major Robertson did undertake 
the rounds in ‘‘Slim’s” behalf. He interviewed 

[108] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


the persons believed to be most likely to give 
the youngster the financial support that was 
imperative. But all were frankly sceptical 
about the success of the undertaking. 

“Why, it’s nothing short of suicide,’ some 
of them said. “This Lindbergh is only a kid.” 

The decision to ask for financial support for 
“Slim” was reached on January 9, 1927, and 
for a month Major Robertson worked at the 
task like a beaver. But when that month had 
elapsed he and his brother, Lieut. Frank Rob- 
ertson met at the St. Louis flying field, talked 
over what had been done and came to the re- 
luctant conclusion that there didn’t seem to be 
a ghost of a chance for “Slim” and his hopes. 

When they broke this to “Slim” the youth 
shook his head, a world of disappointment in 
the gesture, and said: 

“Well, I guess it’s all off. So Ill just keep 
on flying the mail and let it go at that. The 
other fellows who are going to fly to Paris 
are getting ready now and even if I did get the 
money it would be almost too late to do any- 
thing.” | 

There was no mistaking the grievously re- 
gretful look on “‘Slim’s”’ face. 

[109] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


‘‘Anyhow, we'll try one other place,” Major 
Robertson said. “I’m going to call up Harry 
H. Knight and ask him to help out.” 


“No use in that,” was “Slim’s” quick com- 
ment. “The Flying Club hasn’t any money. 
Let’s just forget it.” 

But that was one thing that Major Robert- 
son would not do. He disregarded what 
“Slim” had said so lugubriously and called Mr. 
Knight by telephone. 

The result startled the Major. Mr. Knight 
was instantly enthusiastic over the plan. He 
lost no time in summoning others to the Lind- 
bergh colors. One of these was Harold M. 
Bixby, president of the St. Louis Chamber of 
Commerce, also a member of the St. Louis 
Flying Club and owner of a plane. Another 
was Albert Bond Lambert, the noted balloon- 
ist for whom the Lambert-St Louis Field is 
named. 

It was explained that ‘Slim’ himself had 
saved $2,000, which was snug in a bank, and 
that he wanted to put this in the fund. Major 
Robertson added $1,000, and after Mr. Knight 
and Mr. Bixby had signed a note for $15,000 

[110] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


the State National Bank at once lent the nec- 
essary money and it was placed at “Slim’s”’ dis- 
posal. 

And that is the story of the financing of 
“Slim” Lindbergh for his renowned flight. Ail 
that remained was the selection of a type of 
plane for the daring voyage. ‘This was left 
entirely in “Slim’s’’ capable hands. 


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CHAPTER XIil 
VISIONS OF THE SPIRIT OF ST. LOUIS BUILDING 


“Stim” Lindbergh had now realized a part 
of his cherished dream, the climax to which was 
to be his triumph over the windy heights above 
the grim Atlantic. He had funds with which 
to negotiate for a plane to bear him to Paris. 
That it would bear him he felt youthfully as- 
sured. 

The group of enthusiastic St. Louis men 
which had undertaken to back him left the 
choice of plane to the young pilot, as he was 
to be the one to fly it, to trust to it, to win or 
lose with it. 

It was his first idea to saree a Bellanca 
monoplane and he journeyed to New York with 
this type foremost in his mind. But there was 
some hitch about terms when he talked with 
the Bellanca officials. Agreement could not 
be reached. It was something of a disappoint- 


[114] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


ment to “Slim.” A ship of this design was 
already being prepared for the New York- 
Paris adventure, Acosta and Chamberlin being 
announced originally as its crew. 

In aviation circles it is generally known now 
that “‘Slim,”’ before entering into a contract for 
the plane in which he flew to Paris, made re- 
peated efforts to purchase the Bellanca mono- 
plane Columbia, which was owned by the 
Wright Aeronautical Corporation of Paterson, 
N. J., which had built it while its designer was 
still employed as the organization’s engineer. 
“Slim” was refused the plane because of his 
determination to fly alone and for the added 
reason that the Wright Company was reluctant 
to see the flight tried with a single motor. 

As further parleying with the Bellanca peo- 
ple was out of the question, “Slim” bethought 
himself of the Ryan plane. This is a type man- 
ufactured in San Diego, Cal. He felt that this 
would suit all his exacting needs for such a 
flight. But he wanted to be certain of this, so 
he went to San Diego. 

He arrived there on February 28. But on 
the day before he sent a telegram to B. F. Ma- 
honey, president of the Ryan Airways, Inc., 

[115] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


that he wished that organization to build for 
him a trans-Atlantic plane. 

“That was the first we heard of him,” Mr. 
Mahoney said. ‘‘And after receiving the mes- 
sage we did about twenty-four hours’ engineer- 
ing work, so that when he did arrive we were 
able to tell him that we could build the plane 
he wanted. We guaranteed that it would have 
the necessary strength and cruising radius. 
Lindbergh had never then flown a Ryan plane. 

‘“The day he arrived in San Diego we signed 
a contract with him for the construction of a 
plane, and that was when he made his entry for 
the $25,000 Orteig prize. 

‘““As for his interest in the plane which was 
to bear him to such a brilliant victory, he was 
in the factory practically all of every day that 
the ship was under construction. Although he 
was so much concerned in the plane, he made 
only a few suggestions. ‘The chief one had to 
do with the implacement of the pilot’s seat. 

‘“We added a little more wing area to the 
plane for this flight, but essentially otherwise, 
the “Spirit of St. Louis’ was a stock plane. 
Sixty days after the contract for it was signed 
it was in the air for a test flight. No one save 


[116] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


Lindbergh ever flew inside this ship. A little 
more than a week after the test flight was made, 
Lindbergh took off for his hop from San Diego 
to St. Louis.” 

A great deal of secrecy: attended the early 
preparations of “Slim” Lindbergh in San 
Diego. Newspaper men of the neighborhood 
were pledged to silence about them. They 
were able later to aid materially in what 
appeared then to be a race with the Bellanca 
plane and the Fokker ship of Commander Byrd 
by withholding the information that he was 
ready to make the Paris flight and keeping him 
accurately posted as to the doings of his rival 
pilots in the East. 

As Uolim's: anistoric’ plane, Spirit) of) St. 
Louis” was designed by Donald Hall and built 
by Hawley Bowlus, her wing span was forty- 
six feet and her length overall twenty-seven 
feet three inches. Her wing area was 320 
square feet. She was driven by a Wright 
Whirlwind air cooled radial motor of 200- 
horsepower rated with a high speed of 130 
miles an hour, or 123 miles an hour carrying 
full load. The fuel tanks had a capacity of 

[117] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


450 gallons of high test gas. The oil capacity 
was twenty gallons. 

When empty the plane weighed 1,950 
pounds, but with the load it carried at the out- 
set of the flight to France its weight was esti- 
mated at 5,150 pounds. When “Slim” took 
off for Paris the Spirit of St. Louis had never 
before carried within 750 pounds of the weight 
his 200-horsepower engine was compelled to 
take aloft. 

The “Spirit of St. Louis’? was remarkable by 
reason of the fact that it was a “blind” plane. 
The pilot had no direct vision ahead. He was 
placed completely inside the ship, encased in a 
small compartment so that the streamline 
design might be carried to extreme lengths. 
In order to overcome this novel departure from 
other and seemingly fixed types, and to give the 
pilot an opportunity to see directly ahead, a 
sliding periscope, said to have been the first 
ever designed for aeroplane use, was built into 
the ship. 

This device slid in and out at the will of the 
pilot at a corner of the window on the left side 
of the cockpit, thus giving something approach- 
ing unobstructed vision forward without re- 


[118] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


quiring him to thrust his head over side. 
Obviously, this device could be of little use at 
night. 3 
“Slim” knew that he would have little use 
for his eyes save to check landmarks and rely. 
upon his drift indicator until he should strike 
out to sea. After that he would have instru- 
ments on the dash in front of him which would 
enable him to keep his “bus” level, directed 
on a straight line and at an even keel fore and 
aft. All that remained was for him to change 
his course according to the compass variations, 
which would be prearranged, and the time. He 
decided to carry no sextant, nor to use his drift 
indicator after leaving land. 

Part of his equipment consisted of a collaps- 
ible rubber boat, known as an “‘air craft,” 
which it would be possible for him to inflate 
in a few seconds with two small bottles of 
compressed carbon dioxide, which were handily 
placed. The “boat” was carried back of his 
seat. There were light oars for it and it was 
estimated that if he were able to launch it, in 
the event of a forced landing at sea, the device 
would keep him afloat at least a week. 

In addition the equipment for which provi- 


[119] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


sion was made consisted of two army canteens 
of water slung within easy reach, and an 
Armhurst cup, or breath-condensing still by 
which a man is said to be able to satisfy his 
thirst for an indefinite period, at least as long 
as he can breathe. 

The flotation possibilities of the “Spirit of 
St. Louis” depended largely upon the amount of 
gasoline still in her tanks in case she were 
forced down. By reason of the position of the 
motor and the tanks, the latter directly in front 
of the instrument board, the plane would sink 
by the nose if she dropped into the water. If 
her tanks were empty, these would act as 
buoys, and if they were not, ‘Slim’? would be 
able to empty them, slowly, to be sure, by resort 
to a small hand-pump. 

The plane’s fusilage was of welded steel and 
this would tend strongly to sink her, but her 
wings were of wood, wire and fabric structure, 
and would act to support the ship awhile, at 
least long enough, it was computed, to permit 
the pilot to shove off in his inflated rubber 
‘‘boat.” 


[120] 


CHAPTER XIV 
THE SPIRIT OF ST. LOUIS ORDERED 


No greater care did any skilled artisan give 
to the construction of a fine chronometer than 
that “Slim” Lindbergh lavished on his historic 
plane while it was under construction at San 
Diego. 

He was at the Ryan factory morning, noon 
and night, watching every ounce of everything 
that went to make up the ship. And his en- 
thusiasm was only equaled by that of the group 
of young men, all in their twenties, who labored 
at the now distinguished task. 

B. F. Mahoney, the chief engineer of the 
Ryan organization, who was only twenty-six, 
told “Slim” at the outset that the plane would 
cost about $14,000 to construct and equip, but 
that it could not be sold for less than $15,000. 
He explained that the building would require 
the entire resources of the Ryan plant. 


[121] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


This was somewhat of a facer for Lindbergh, 
though he knew he had enthusiastic backing in 
St. Louis. However, the youthful spirit of 
those men who were contriving the plane, their 
determination to make a man’s job of it and see 
the thing through to the end, prevailed. 
Mahoney said he was so sure “Slim” would 
succeed that he would construct the plane for 
$10,500, hoping that when “Slim” should ar- 
rive in Paris, the renown of the “Spirit of St. 
Louis’? would so redound to the company’s 
credit that the deficit would be made up. 

One token of the high-hearted speed with 
which the Ryan engineers worked is to be found 
in the fact that the plans for ‘‘Slim’s” plane 
were drawn within twenty-four hours after he 
reached San Diego and explained, with pencil 
and paper and by carefully worded directions, 
just what he wanted. 

Sixty days were required for the construction 
of the ship, and the moment the last work was 
done “Slim’’ announced he would put it to test. 
And from the very first it proved to be every- 
thing he demanded of a plane to which he in- 
tended trusting himself in a most perilous 
undertaking. 


[122] 


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HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


But flying was not the only thing ‘‘Slim’” had 
to think about. There was the problem of 
keeping awake during the forty hours of steady, 
swift winging he expected would be required to 
land him in Paris. So he began wrestling with 
this problem almost as soon as he arrived in 
San Diego. 

He determined to accustom himself to long 
periods of sleeplessness. He was, as has been 
said, at the factory all day for many days. But 
he also made time in which to take long tramps 
over the roads about the California city. He 
frequently fought off sleep for thirty or forty 
hours. It was reported confidentially that he 
remained awake for forty-nine hours in succes- 
sion in the week before he set out from San 
Diego for St. Louis. 

One morning about 3:30 o'clock, a friend 
encountered his slogging along a road with the 
swing of a professional distance walker. ‘The 
friend offered him a lift back to San Diego, 
but “Slim” declined, saying that he wouldn’t 
break training for the world. As he had thus 
tested to the point of proof that he could re- 
main awake for very long periods, ‘‘Slim”’ 
could afford to smile at the predictions freely 


[123] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


made by flyers that he would never be able to 
remain alert and manage a plane for forty 
hours, that if nothing else overcame him, he 
would be lulled to sleep by the monotony of the 
roaring motor. 

In order that he might have as much physical 
comfort as possible during the long flight, 
‘“Slim’s” seat was in a slightly back-tilted wicker 
chair. The cabin prepared for him was all in- 
closed so that he would not be subjected to 
strong wind nor rain nor sleet. Description of 
this plane, which is given in a later chap- 
ter of this chronicle, showed that ‘‘Slim” had 
no forward vision save by the use of a peri- 
scope. ‘There were windows at both sides, 
through which he had unobstructed sight, but 
he could not see directly aloft, as the skylight 
over his head was frosted. 

The engine, upon which so very much de- 
pended, was a nine-cylinder, air-cooled radial 
power plant, a “‘Wright Whirlwind” motor. 
Its cylinders, which were grouped like the 
spokes of a wheel about a central crank-case, 
were provided with cooling fans such as are 
used upon the familiar motorcycle engine. Ig- 
nition was furnished by two magnetos, and 

[124] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


there were two spark plugs to each cylinder, so 
that if one system of ignition failed there would 
be a second to do the work and keep the engine 
turning over. 

By having the motor air-cooled much weight 
was saved, a water radiator having to carry 
about three-quarters of a pound of water for 
each horse power. Air cooling also eliminated 
the danger of radiator leakage and stoppage, 
the latter having caused the failure of Harry 
Hawker’s pioneer effort to fly across the At- 
lantic. 

Save for the grouping of the cylinders, the 
motor operated like an air-cooled automobile 
engine. ‘The connecting rod in each cylinder 
was bolted to a short crankshaft and the pro- 
peller was attached to the end of the crank- 
shaft. Also there was a double carburetor. 

Contrary to prevalent belief, the motor does 
not revolve, the cylinders being fixed and the 
only revolution being that of the crankshaft. 

The most elaborate feature of the ‘Spirit of 
St. Louis” was its equipment of instruments, ar- 
ranged on a vertical board directly before the 
pilot’s gaze. It included a device to calculate 
the drift caused by winds, an earth inductor, 

[125] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


held to be in every way more reliable than the 
old magnetic compass; a bank and turn indi- 
cator, which discloses to the pilot the exact 
position of his plane even when the horizon is 
not visible to him, and the usual flying instru- 
ments such as air speed meter, a tachometer 
showing the revolutions per minute of the 
motor, temperature, gauges and a clock. 

The computed gas consumption of the motor 
was approximately one gallon for every ten 
miles, just about what a heavy automobile re- 
quires, and a pint of oil every hour. The oper- 
ating cost of the trip, including gas, oil and de- 
terioration of the engine, was figured at $175. 

While the plane was under construction, 
“Slim” was more or less secretive about his 
plans. He seemed to be afraid that people 
would not take such a youth seriously. Now 
and then, while the plane was only a growing 
structure of steel, wire and fabric, word would 
come from New York that the Chamberlin- 
Acosta expedition was on the brink of taking 
off for the Paris flight, and that Commander 
Byrd was, likewise, almost ready; in fact, that 
news of his hop-off might arrive any hour. 
Furthermore, the cable announced that Nun- 

[126] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


gesser and Coli, starting from France, were 
practically certain of reaching New York be- 
fore ‘Slim’ and his plane should enter the 
contest. 

But ‘‘Slim’’ was not at all disturbed by all 
this. He was determined not to be hurried. 

“They are flying their ships and I am flying 
mine,” he said. “Let them go ahead in their 
own way and I[’ll go ahead in mine.” 

At that time the entrants for the trans-At- 
lantic flight probably did not give much thought 
to “Slim,” though they knew he was getting a 
plane ready for the hop. They were much too 
busy with their own affairs. 

There came a day, however, when it was 
realized he was onevto be reckoned with. That 
was when he made his transcontinental flight to 
New York. 

He had tested out the plane to his entire sat- 
isfaction. He felt in his inner heart that it 
would bear him safely over the air leagues to 
Paris, and he determined to be off, on his way 
eastward. 

On May 10 at 5:55 P.M., he took off from 
the San Diego Field, a wave of his hand and a 
plume of smoke from his exhaust his farewells 

[127] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


to the young men who had worked so long and 
so hard to equip him for his adventure. 

It was at 8:18 on the morning of the r1ith 
that he arrived in St. Louis. He first de- 
scended to within one hundred feet of the 
ground, then nosed up and flew over the busi- 
ness district of the city before coming to earth. 
The journey from San Diego—1,550 miles— 
had required fourteen hours and five minutes. 
The fastest rail journey from San Diego to St. 
Louis requires seventy hours, with connec- 
tions at Los Angeles and Kansas City. 

This was the longest non-stop flight ever 
made across country by one man, and “Slim” 
had ably demonstrated his “homing pigeon’”’ in- 
stin¢t by deviating only twenty-five miles from 
his course during the entire journey, which in- 
cluded ten hours of night flying without lights. 

St. Louis gave ‘Slim’ a hearty welcome, and 
Harry Knight, one of his backers, invited the 
youth to spend the night at his country place. 
But “Slim” declined. He said that he was 
eager to be on his way and asked that he might 
be permitted to spend the night with his old 
comrades of the air in the farm house he had 
so often slept in at the field. 

[128] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


Next morning found him astir soon after 
daybreak. He was once more with his plane. 
Fuel and oil were taken on as speedily as pos- 
sible, the engine was looked over and at 8 
o’clock he was again a-wing. He arrived in 
New York on the afternoon of May 12. His 
time from St. Louis was seven hours twenty- 
five minutes. The fastest trains make it in 
twenty-four hours. 

“Slim” Lindbergh made his headquarters at 
Curtiss Field, and there the “Spirit of St. 
Louis” was made ready for its world-famous 
flight. 

Long before dawn of May 20 “Slim” and his 
plane went to Roosevelt Field. The day had 
arrived. All preparations completed, ‘Slim’ 
climbed aboard and stowed himself in the 
tightly enclosed cockpit. He was a quiet, much 
impressed young man. He knew he was tak- 
ing his life in his hands, but he held them com- 
petent hands. 

And so, with a great motor-roar he was off. 

He was in Paris in thirty-three hours and 
a half. 

All the civilized world now knew “Slim” 


Lindbergh. 
[129] 


CHAPTER XV 
A FINE SCHOOL STORY 


IN closing this chronicle of “Slim” Lind- 
bergh, the reader turns back to the days he 
spent as a pupil at the University of Wiscon- 
sin, and has a glimpse of the youngster through 
the revealing glass of three compositions he 
wrote as part of his course in English. 

These three outpourings of his youthful 
mind have been carefully preserved by his then 
preceptor, Prof. R. F. Brosius, now Assist- 
ant Professor of Business English in New York 
University. He had “Slim” in his class at 
Madison in 1921. 

In those days “Slim’’ was not noted for his 
skill as an air pilot, but he had the distinction 
of being a poor speller and a poor punctuator, 
and he did not at all like the constant errors 
in composition, to which Professor Brosius 
called his attention. 

So, one of these compositions, entitled 

[130] 


HI§ LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


“Failed,” was a distinct “slap” at the Professor. 
“Tt was obviously a dig at me,” Professor 
Brosius said the other day, “but it was so well 
done that it surely deserved the mark ‘A,’ 
which I gave it.” 

Here is the composition, which was typed, 
dated May 27, 1921, and signed, “Lindbergh, 
Cr Aa? 

“St. Peter was not in a charitable mood dur- 
ing the hours of an earth morning spent in 
viseing passports to the celestial realms. Far 
too large a percentage of the credentials had 
been lacking in minor points and required care- 
ful inspection. Came a mortal applying for 
admission. 

““*Your former occupation?’ queried the 
saint. 

‘““T was an American clergyman,’ replied the 
inhabitant of the earth. 

‘* ‘Um,’ mused St Peter. ‘From the United 
States ?” 

‘“ “Even so.’ 

“Your living was?” 

‘* ‘Precarious; I did not survive.’ The min- 
ister handed him his passport, a weighty docu- 
ment, carefully typed. 

[131] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


“St. Peter frowned, for the task of reading 
the manuscript was not to his liking. 

***Was this written by some literary syndi- 
cate?’ he asked. 

“““No; I wrote it myself.’ 

‘The credential began, ‘I have been a good 
true and faithful servant.’ 

‘**You have omitted the comma in the series 
of the form A, B and C,’ criticized the saint. 

‘“*T am forty years old,’ protested the other. 
‘In my day such punctuation was correct.’ 

‘“"We are progressive,’ snapped St. Peter. 
‘Everything within our jurisdiction is entirely 
up to date.’ He continued reading: ‘my rela- 
tions with the profiteers and grafters were 
problematical.’ 

‘**Entire lack of coherence,’ asserted the 
saint. 

‘* “Tf it please your saintship, the conditions 
themselves were incoherent, impossible of so- 
lution.’ 

‘*“No matter, it was your business to clear 
them up.’ For a few minutes he read in silence, 
then exclaimed: 

‘‘“Bromidic, not even chlorin tainted!’ You 
have written, ‘I have endeavored always to see 

[132] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


myself as others see me.’ That idea is as old 
as time.’ 

‘But,’ protested the mortal, ‘there is noth- 
ing new under the sun. How am I to avoid 
such material ?” 

“You are obliged to see things from a dif- 
ferent angle, to seek a new point of view, as it 
were!’ 

“Then the saint came upon this sentence: 
‘The question of inherent right, and which I 
had expounded for weeks, was still a puzzle te 
them.’ St. Peter mopped the perspiration 
which oozed beneath his halo. ‘See Wooley,’ 
he snarled. 

““T am not acquainted with Mr. Wooley,’ 
explained the mortal meekly. 

‘“““No matter,’ retorted the saint, ‘you ought 
to be.’”” The book is for sale by the C. D. 
Heath Company, Boston, New York and Chi- 
cago, and is used by many institutions of note.’ 

‘Followed silence for half an hour while 
the shadows lengthened beyond the golden por- 
tals. Now and then the minister caught 
glimpses of the happy throng within and heard 
faint sweet melodies from distant harps. He 

[133] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


pondered. He knew that his work on earth 
had been well done, but so confident had he 
been that he paid little attention to the gram- 
matical form of his passport. Now, as he 
watched heaven’s doorkeeper, his doubts ac- 
cumulated. 

‘“*Some excellent touches,’ murmured the 
saint. “Good atmosphere.’ Again silence 
while the saint finished the last page. Then 
with a sigh he returned the passport. Slowly 
shaking his head he gave the verdict: 

‘fA pity to permit so many minor mechani- 
cal errors to bar good material from eternal 
commendation. You are not permitted to pass 
on.’ 

‘Bewildered, but rebellious, the mortal be- 
gan his downward journey. ‘And to think,’ he 
hurled back at St. Peter, ‘that my brother is a 
professor of English at Yale.’ 

‘“‘ “Another case of need,’ answered the saint, 
‘where practical help from one’s relatives 
reaches the vanishing point.’ ”’ 


The next one, for which ‘‘Slim” received a 
‘“‘B,” bore the German title, ‘‘Es war einmal 
eine Insel mitten in der See’ (‘“‘Once upon a 
time there was an island in the middle of the 

[134] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


sea’). This was dated March 21, 1921, and 
Yeas). « 

“Some 4,000 miles south of Madison there 
is a narrow and crooked strip of land, ten miles 
wide and thirty-five miles long, the Panama 
Canal Zone. Ten great battleships lie at an- 
chor in Limon Bay, waiting for the daylight 
before passing through the canal to the Pacific 
Ocean and then to San Francisco, where they 
will join the Pacific fleet and incidentally place 
ten more stumbling blocks between Japan and 
California. A faint red glow is seen in the 
east; a bugle call, and blue-clad soldiers swarm 
over the greyhounds of the deep. ‘Iwo sea- 
men, Joseph Williams and Robert Anderson, 
are on the afterdeck, waiting for mess. 

“Well, Joe, this is the big day. We've been 
wanting to see the Panama Canal for months. 
Now we'll go through it.’ 

“Yes, Ted, by this time to-morrow you and 
I shall have completed a journey that would 
have taken us over a month a few years ago, to 
say nothing of the hard work and danger in 
rounding the Horn. We have Roosevelt and 
Goethals to thank for that. After Spain and 
France failed to dig a ditch with spades, men 

[135] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


and celebrations, it took Roosevelt’s courage 
and Goethal’s ingenuity to build a-canal by 
means of steel, cement and persistence.’ 

‘But it has taken years and millions of dol- 
lars to construct it. ‘Think of the great iron 
monsters built especially for the job. One of 
those steam shovels did more work in a minute 
than a man could in a day.’ 

“Tt may have been exceedingly expensive, 
but it has proved worth while in the saving of 
time and coal alone, not taking into considera- 
tion the advantage we shall have in case of war. 
And, above all, the fact that Uncle Sam has 
succeeded where the old world failed.’ 

““*There was a slide in Culebra Cut a few 
days ago. Some said it would tie up shipping 
for weeks, but the dredges have removed the 
dirt in three days. The Panama Canal has one 
of the greatest engineering organizations in ex- 
istence. Well, there’s chow; better hurry; 
we've a hard day ahead of us.’ 

“Some four blocks south of the University 
of Wisconsin there is a small frame house. It 
may have been painted gray a long time ago. 
Miss Justrite and Mr. O’Kay, university stu- 
dents are in the parlor waiting for the car be- 

[136] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


fore going to see ‘Sinful Sin’ at the movies, and 
from there to go to the chocolate shop where 
they will meet Bill and Maud, incidentally add- 
ing a few extra dollars to dad’s expense ac- 
count. A yellow glare is seen in the distance. 
It is the headlight of a Madison street car. 
Perhaps ten minutes after it passes the car go- 
ing in the opposite direction will carry Miss 
Justrite and Mr. O’Kay to the movies. Says 
Mr. O’Kay: 

“ “Well, I see that they had another slide in 
the Panama Canal. The Government ought to 
get a few of our engineers down there. They 
would stop those cave-ins pretty quick.’ 

‘Answers Miss Justrite: ‘Oh, you mean that 
river down in South America. It’s all a big 
graft anyway, you know. The politicians have 
to have some way of spending the people’s 
money. I heard that Theda Bara in the 
‘“Love Kiss”’’ will be at the Strand next Sun- 
day. My, but I’d love to see it.’” 

The comment that Professor Brosius wrote 
upon this composition was: “If one is to judge 
from their mellifluous English, these are pretty 
high-class gobs.” 

“A day in the University Life of an Engi- 

[137] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


neer’ is the theme of the third piece of author- 
ship. It won a mark of “B minus,” with cer- 
tain comments upon spelling and punctuation 
from Professor Brosius. It was written April 
22,1921. Here it is: 

“The gray streak of dawn is in the east, and 
soon the sun will usher into Madison another 
spring day. The farmers of the surrounding 
country, having finished their milking, are eat- 
ing an early breakfast preparatory to a full 
day’s work. Signs of life appear among the 
animal folk as the birds commence their morn- 
ing melodies. The university professors have 
finished their lecture preparations for the day. 
Exactly at 7:15 the alarm rings in the room of 
a freshman engineer. It continues to ring. 
When the noise becomes unbearable he crawls 
from bed, muffles the offending machine in the 
quilt and becomes sufficiently awake to com- 
mence dressing. By 7:45 he rushes to the lunch 
counter, and by 8:02 bursts into the room of 
his 8 o’clock, just in time to answer roll 
call. Fifteen minutes later he becomes con- 
scious that a lecture is being given in the same 
room. From 10 to 11 he has drill. After 
fumbling several formations, shouldering his 

[138] 


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7A 3 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


gun on an ‘at trial’ order and receiving the 
usual compliments, he forgets that there is such 
a thing as bed. 

‘Some one near him who has not yet recov- 
ered from last night’s formal fumbles a ‘left 
shoulder,’ and the engineer passes on the 
phrases that he himself received a few mo- 
ments before. At 11 he starts for his room 
with a firm resolve to study math. On the way 
he meets a Madison milkman who is just begin- 
ning his morning round. The cardinal is on the 
-porch. He looks it over while his roommate 
tells him about last night’s party. Then it is 
time to eat. He glances hastily at his math, 
decides that he will do it in class, slams his 
book shut and is off to make up for a light 
breakfast. In the math class he works one of 
the examples and copies four; then happily de- 
votes his attention to the feasibility of sniping 
a hat through the window with a piece of 
chalk. The English instructor decides to read 
the last themes, expostulating upon the num- 
ber of useless words and phrases, while the en- 
gineer listens in breathless apprehension lest 
his own composition be used as an example. 
Luckily it is not, so he settles down to meditate 
ue [139] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


upon the utterly foolish statements others make 
in their essays. A chemistry quiz is scheduled 
for the next day. Therefore from 3:30 to 10, 
with the exception of a few minutes for supper, 
he attempts to make up for six weeks’ neg- 
lected study. At 10 o’clock, with formulas and 
elements playing tag through his brain, he sets 
the alarm, places it out of reach, and goes to 
bed, hoping that ‘Louie’ will leave a few an- 
swerable questions on the exam paper.” 


Whatever his shortcomings in spelling and 
punctuation, ‘Slim’ finished second highest in 
his class, with a mark of 85. Another boy re- 
ceived the same mark, and they were beaten by 
one alone, a girl, Elizabeth Holbrook, who got 
go. 
The three Lindbergh compositions are to be 
framed, presented to Dean John A. Madden, 
and hung in some prominent place in the uni- 
versity. 


[140] 


CHAPTER XVI 
FLYING OVER THE ATLANTIC 


MECHANISM OF THE SPIRIT OF ST. LOUIS 
EXPLAINED IN DETAIL 


(By Capt. Robert Scofield Wood, D. F. C., M. C., Croix de 
Guerre; of the Independent Air Force, R. A. F., 
in France during the World War.) 


How would you like to take a flight with 
Captain Lindbergh in the ‘Spirit of St. Louis” 
and see for yourself how he spent those thirty- 
three and a half long hours in his epoch-mak- 
ing flight from New York to Paris? Come 
on—and get in behind the pilot. You can 
kneel on that collapsible lifeboat and look di- 
rectly at the instrument board and watch the 
“wheels go round.” 

Just hold on the back of the wicker seat and 
enjoy yourself. You won’t need a belt, there 
will be no violent stunting attempted in the 
monoplane, as it is not the type that lends itself 
to aérobatics very readily and, while it can 

[141] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


be thrown around a bit, there is too great a 
load being carried to do anything but quiet fly- 
ing. All right, now, just watch; you won’t be 
able to do much talking because the roar of 
the engine will drown your voice. 

“All right, Jerry; put the chocks under the 
wheels until the engine is run for a minute. 
Atta boy!” 

Jerry: “Switch off ?” 

Pilot: ‘‘Switch off. Suck in.” Jerry, swing- 
ing the ‘“‘prop,” ‘‘Contact.”’ 

Pilot: ‘‘Contact’”—and he closes the switch. 

With a roar that precludes any further ques- 
tioning the engine starts to turn over at about 
800 R.P.M. (revolutions per minute). The 
throttle is opened a little bit at a time until 
one can hear nothing but a terrific roar as the 
200 horse power Wright Whirlwind Motor 
sings its song of conquest. As the engine 
awakes, several of the little meters begin to 
show signs of life other than the vibration im- 
parted by the speeding engine. 

The tachometer, which is nothing more than 
an engine revolution counter, jumps into action 
and as the throttle moves forward and the 
noise of the engine becomes more intense the 

[142] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


needle slowly moves around the arc past 6, 7, 
8, 9, and so on up to 19. Each of these units 
represents 100 revolutions a minute of the en- 
gine. The divisions between the numbers 
indicate twenty-five revolutions each. The 
throttle is advanced until the noise is almost 
unbearable and the tachometer shows 1,975 
R.P.M. and the throttle is suddenly closed. 
The noise stops except for a slight popping, 
and the revolution meter or counter suddenly 
drops back to 4, indicating about 400 R.P.M. 

The oil pressure gauge and oil temperature 
guage also register. The pressure gauge 
needle mounts to a position directly over a 
white line drawn from its center to the figure 
20 and stays there, a red line at 50 indicates 
the danger point which is only reached when 
trouble develops some where in the oiling sys- 
tem. The oil temperature gauge continues to 
rise slowly even after the engine slows down. 
The danger mark, a red line, made on the dial 
of this instrument is drawn at 180 degrees. 
When the oil gets to this point the engine is 
overheating and must be cooled. However, it 
only gets to about 110 degrees and stays there 
—evidently working properly. 

[143] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


The pilot puts his hand out and “‘waves the 
chocks away.” A slight forward motion of the 
throttle, accompanied by the roar of the motor, 
and the plane starts to move across the field 
which, despite its apparent billiard table ap- 
pearance had plenty of bumps that seem to be 
accentuated as the plane moves faster. It 
taxies out about 100 yards, the pilot holding 
the ‘‘joy stick” back as far as possible to keep 
the tail on the ground while taxiing across the 
drome, describes a half-circle and gets set with 
its nose pointed dead into the wind. That, of 
course, is the safest way to take off, especially 
when the plane is heavily loaded. It is possi- 
ble to take off down-wind and cross-wind, but 
unless the “‘ship” is particularly fast and of the 
scout or light, easily handled type it is better to 
take off into the wind. Captain Fonk, in the ill- 
fated Sikorski, took off down-wind and never 
left the ground. 

The throttle, which is on the right of the 
pilot and operating on a quadrant (and not 
shown in the accompanying sketch), is moved 
slowly forward as the plane starts to move 
with ever-increasing impetus across the aéro- 
drome. ‘The air speed indicator in the mean- 

[144] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


time has moved up from 40 to 50 and on up 
to 60 miles an hour—the tail has come up 
as the ‘joy stick” is moved slightly forward and 
the ship is rolling along on its wheels. Sud- 
denly the bumping stops, the air speed indica- 
tor mounts rapidly to 100 miles per hour—the 
plane is a-wing! 

Other instruments have come to life—the 
altometer shows 500 feet as the roads begin 
to look like ribbons and lakes and other natural 
landmarks, such as bays and the ocean and 
Sound begin to take form below. The houses 
take on the look of playthings and are finally 
lost as the plane rises higher and higher. The 
air is much cooler and, despite the brilliant sun- 
shine and the fact that the pilot’s cockpit is 
shielded from the wind, it is decidedly chilly. 
The temperature goes down at the rate of a 
degree for every 500 feet of altitude. 

The plane is flying in a straight line down 
Long Island toward Peconic Bay which, be- 
cause of the fog, cannot be seen. It seems to 
be standing still at 5,000 feet, although the air 
speed indicator shows 105 M.P.H. and a west 
wind of ten miles an hour is increasing its ac- 
tual ground speed to more than 115 miles per 

[145] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


hour. The wind at this altitude has veered 
around and is blowing in almost the opposite 
' direction from that on the ground. The two 
easterly arms of the island fade into indistinct- 
ness, as the visibility is not particularly good. 

The engine in the meantime has been 
throttled down to about 1,500 R.P.M., and 
the *‘joy stick,” which controls the elevators and 
the angle of climb, has been moved slightly 
forward as we cruise east at 5,000 feet. The 
“stick” has never been really still during the 
ascent. There was always a slight motion 
backward as the nose of the ship was 
pulled up and the angle of climb increased. 
This is accompanied by a slight sideward move- 
ment to test thc stability of the machine. 

The pilot pays no attention to the inclino- 
meter or meter that registers the rate of climb, 
as he knows from the feel of the machine and 
its immediate response to the sideward move- 
ments of the “‘stick” that it has plenty of for- 
ward speed and is under perfect control. When 
it becomes heavy and unresponsive the “stick” 
is pushed forward a little but not very much, 
an almost imperceptible movement, which has 
the desired results, as the machine continues 

[146] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


to mount, but at a slightly: decreased . rate. 

The only things aside from his engine in- 
struments that gets any attention up to this 
time are the earth inductor compass and a stop- 
watch. The Captain indicates that he is about 
to change his course. The left wing drops in 
simultaneous response to a sideward motion of 
the ‘joy stick” in that direction, as the ship 
gracefully alters its course in answer to a 
slight pressure on the rudder bar by the left 
foot. The “‘stick” is moved to the right to a 
neutral position, but the plane continues in the 
arc with its left wing down. A movement of 
the “joy stick’”’ to the right brings the plane 
back on an even keel, at which moment the 
““stick’’ is centered again—the rudder bar be- 
ing simultaneously straightened—and the ship 
is headed on the desired course. 

The sideward motion of the ‘‘joy stick” con- 
trols the ailerons, the movable auxiliary sur- 
faces of the main wing structure which are part 
of the trailing edge of the aérofoils. 

It is necessary to bank the machine when go- 
ing around turns to avoid sideslipping and the 
loss of flying speed or possibly falling into a 
disastrous flat spin. The bank is so easily and 

uhh? | 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


gracefully made that one would not know he 
was changing direction—it is so different from 
an automobile. 

During this turn a new instrument springs 
into life but the pilot pays no attention to it; 
it is labeled ‘turn and bank indicator.” The 
pointer deviates slightly to the left, and the 
bubble in the level rides up to the right. When 
the machine is back on an even keel the in- 
struments register normal. ‘The air-speed in- 
dicator remains constant at 120 M.H.P. 

After passing beyond the end of Long Is- 
land a slight alteration is made in the setting 
of the earth inductor compass controller, and 
the course changed slightly. Any deviation to 
the right or left is immediately shown on the 
meter, which gives a zero reading when the 
plane is flying on the right course. 

The Pioneer earth inductor compass is a 
remote reading direction indicator. Its opera- 
tion depends upon electro-magnetic reactions 
with the earth’s field, and directions are indi- 
cated in reference to magnetic north. 

The earth inductor compass consists of three 
major units: a generator, a controller and an 
indicator. Associated with these are a casing 

[148] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


and a shaft which establish a mechanical con- 
nection between the generator and the con- 
troller, and a cable which electrically connects 
the generator and the indicator. | 

The generator is the direction-responsive 
element of the earth inductor compass. It is 
the same in principle as any electric generator, 
except that it has no artificially induced field. 
It has an armature, a commutator and a pair 
of brushes. ‘The armature unit is supported 
on gimbels so that its position will be undis- 
turbed by ordinary rolling and pitching of the 
airplane. A windmill drives the armature and 
commutator through a universal joint. The 
brushes are supported for orientation about a 
normally vertical axis, and electrical connec- 
tions are made to them. 

The controller is a purely mechanical device. 
It is connected to the generator through the 
shaft and casing. Rotation of the controller 
causes a corresponding rotation of the brushes 
of the generator. Dials upon the face of the 
controller show the angle through which the 
brushes have been oriented in relation tothe 
airplane. 

The indicator is a nul-reading galvanometer 

[149] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


which is electrically connected by means of the 
cable to the brushes of the generator. The 
position of the hand of the indicator therefore 
shows the electrical potential being produced 
by the generator. 

The operation of the compass depends upon 
the rotation of the armature of the generator 
which cuts lines of flux of the earth’s field and 
generates electricity. Its potential depends 
upon the angular relation between the brushes 
and the direction of the earth’s field. That is, 
the output of the generator is a function of the 
angle between the position of the brushes and 
magnetic north. As the Pioneer compass gen- 
erator is assembled, the output is maximum 
when the brushes are in a north-south position, 
and minimum (zero) when they are in an east- 
west position. The particular position which 
gives zero potential is not, however, of any 
importance. It is sufficient that the orientation 
of the brushes of this generator (or any gen- 
erator) discloses two positions of maximum 
output and two positions of zero output. 

For proper functioning of the inductor com- 
pass it is simply necessary that the direction 
which corresponds to one of these positions of 

[150] 


‘HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


zero potential be set on the dials of the con- 
troller. To determine any unknown direction 
one rotates the controller, and correspondingly 
the brushes, until the indicator reads zero, and 
then reads the direction from the controller 
dials. 

The usual method of steering by this com- 
pass is to set aside the desired heading on the 
controller and then to steer to keep the indi- 
cator on zero. A direction exactly opposite 
to that desired will also give the zero reading, 
but this is easily avoided by noting that on the 
correct heading the indicator hand always 
moves in the direction in which the craft turns. 
Should it move opposite, the reverse heading 
is indicated. 

Every hour throughout the entire trip the 
pilot, consulting a chart and set of graphs, 
makes a change on the controller and a cor- 
responding change in course. There are in all 
about thirty-three such required changes. 

The trip up the coast to Newfoundland is 
far more pleasant than the take off and little 
attention is paid to the many instruments that 
are alive and pulsating. 

Just off the Newfoundland coast darkness en- 


[151] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


velops the eastbound traveler and the pilot sud- 
denly changes his attitude of easy indifference 
to one of alertness and attention to every in- 
strument on the board. ‘The temperature has 
dropped and the heavy fog and mist have 
changed to rain. At 38 degrees it begins to 
freeze on the plane and there is only one thing 
to do—get out of it, if possible. The motor- 
meter, which is actuated by oil temperature, as 
the motor is air cooled, shows a decrease in 
temperature. 

The first impulse is evidently to get above it, 
as the ship is climbing at a pretty steep angle 
as read from the indication of climb meter and 
altimeter. [he altimeter works on the time- 
honored theory of air pressure. At the earth’s 
surface it is fourteen pounds a square inch. 
As one goes up it becomes less and less, until 
the limits of the outer atmosphere are reached. 
Just how far that is above the earth is prob- 
lematical, however, the delicate diaphragm and 
spring arrangement of this instrument indicate 
with great accuracy the altitude above the 
earth’s surface. The level of the drome from 
which the plane takes off is usually considered 

[152] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


as zero. Roosevelt Field being just a little 
above sea level, the difference is negligible. 

At 10,000 feet the machine climbs out of the 
sleet storm, covered with ice. The last quarter 
of a waning moon lights the clouds as the plane 
keeps steadily on its course. During the climb 
through the clouds, despite the inborn flying 
instincts of the pilot, he never once neglects 
his instruments. The turn and bank indicator 
occasionally gave a slight reading, which imme- 
diately catch the pilot’s attention and he auto- 
matically pushes the rudder bar or ‘‘stick’’ to 
correct the error. 

After flying for several hours above the 
sleet storm the cloud banks begin to tear up 
at an altitude that the ‘Spirit of St. Louis,” 
with its heavy load of gas and oil, could never 
reacn. There is nothing left to do but plug 
through it and once more the pilot becomes all 
attention to his instruments. The turn and 
bank indicator, the earth inductor compass and 
the air speed indicator become all important 
factors and while he does not neglect the others 
in his regular check, these command the most 
attention. 

The turn and bank indicator are essential for 

[153] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


the control of flight under poor conditions of 
visibility and when it is absolutely essential to 
keep on an even keel and going straight ahead. 
It also gives the pilot an excellent gauge when 
banking and turning, so that he can effect the 
proper angle and avoid slipping around his 
turns. It is an indispensable adaptation of the 
mariner’s compass which has been adapted to 
aerial navigation. 

By using a turn indicator, which shows the 
slightest divergence from straight flight, the 
pilot avoids turning and his compass will func- 
tion properly. A straight course is maintained 
by steering so as to keep the indicator in the 
central position. By keeping the ball or bubble 
in the center of its tube, the aircraft is held 
laterally level when flying straight, or on the 
correct bank when turning. 

The sensitive element of the turn indicating 
mechanism is a small air-driven gyroscope, op- — 
erated by the vacuum secured from a venturi 
tube. The gyro is mounted in such a way that 
it reacts only to motion about a vertical axis, 
being unaffected by rolling or pitching. 

Constructional details of the turn indicator 
have been worked out very carefully. The 

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HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


whole instrument is non-magnetic, permitting it 
to be used close to the compass. Adjustment 
of sensitiveness may be made to suit any flying 
conditions. ‘The gyro runs on specially de- 
signed precision ball bearings, to which oil is 
supplied from a reservoir within the gyro. 
Without any sacrifice of sensitiveness the mech- 
anism of the turn indicator is ‘“damped”’ so that 
the hand cannot oscillate even under the rough- 
est conditions. 

The air speed indicator seems to remain 
fairly constant, although, as time wears on it 
is showing a steady gain and has now reached 
110 miles per hour. A glance at the fuel indi- 
cator shows the reason. The load, after fif- 
teen hours flying has been reduced over 1,100 
pounds and the craft is steadily gaining speed. 
The air speed indicator, which, like the other 
instruments on the board was made by the 
Pioneer Instrument Company of Brooklyn, 
is a source of constant attention from the 
pilot, who keeps one eye glued on it and the 
compass while he makes notations and consults 
his charts and checks his time and distance as 
he calculated it from dead reckoning before he 
took off. 

[155] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


The air speed indicator or pilot tube, as it 
is sometimes called, is equipped with a dial 
that reads from 20 to 140 M.P.H. It op- 
erates on the principle of air pressure built up 
in a tube of small diameter. It is a sensitive 
pressure gauge, and while it has an error due 
to variations of flight, these errors are known 
and can be calculated without any difficulty. 
The dials are calibrated for air pressure at sea 
level. At greater altitudes the craft is really 
traveling faster than indicated by the indicator. 
It gives a plane a safety factor that cannot be 
obtained by any other structural feature. 

Every ship has a certain normal flying speed 
that can be maintained constantly by the proper 
use of this instrument. It registers the danger 
points in aero speed or lack of it. If a plane 
is driving beyond its structural strength limita- 
tions, the air-speed indicator will give the first 
warning by registering the high speed and long 
before the vibration of the struggling structure 
starts it into giving away, the air-speed indica- 
tor shows the cause of the trouble. The stal- 
ling point, the speed at which the plane loses 
buoyancy and pitches head first out of control, 
is also accurately registered. At great alti- 


[156] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


tudes this is not a dangerous state of affairs, 
because the ship will gain flying speed before it 
drops 500 feet, but when close to the ground it 
spells unavoidable tragedy. The forked head 
of the pilot tube is attached on the “Spirit of 
St. Louis” to one of the beams on the underside 
of the port wing. 

On through the heavy storm cloud, alert as 
a hawk, the pilot goes, watching first one and 
then another of the little black dials with their 
white figures and hands and luminous mark- 
ings, making incessant notations and consulting 
his charts and at stated intervals changing the 
controller on the all-important earth inductor 
compass. The mariners’ compass mounted over 
his head reflects the readings under the lub- 
ber’s line through two mirrors, so that he may 
get a check on his course from an independent 
source. [he idea of mounting it over his head 
is matter of space economy, as so many in- 
struments had to be set on the board. 

The course and drift indicator installed to 
the left of him is given scant attention, be- 
cause it cannot be used in fog or when the 
weather prevents a clear view of objects below. 

Tiring of the never-ending sea of dense 

[157] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


clouds, the pilot decides to descend and, throt- 
tling down the motor and assuming a gentle, 
gliding angle at a slightly diminished speed, 
the ship is taken down through the clouds 
until the altometer indicates that the sea level 
is not far off, but because of the fog and low- 
lying clouds cannot be seen. Suddenly, from 
about 100 feet the waves become visible, and 
without further hesitancy, knowing that noth- 
ing is to be gained by dangerous proximity to 
the sea, the motor is opened full out and the 
nose of the plane pulled up and a safer altitude 
attained. 

The ceaseless checking of the instruments 
never abates until daylight comes, relieving the 
strain of watching those that were essential to 
affecting stability, and the attention of the pilot 
then is centered upon his navigating instru- 
ments, | 

When land is sighted the worst of the trip 
is over and the monotony of navigation from 
charts and instruments is supplanted by the 
more pleasant one of pilotage which takes into 
account those rugged features of coast lines 
and mountains and inland lakes. The earth 
inductor compass still figures in the trip, for 

[158] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


corrections are made with the controller every 
hour, despite the fact that the ship is on its 
course. 

The long twilights of England and France 
make the latter part of the trip pleasant, as the 
towns may be distinguished in the semi-dark- 
ness even without the lights that gleam from 
the houses and in the streets. 

Paris is a blaze of lights that cannot be 
missed and in the last hour’s dash the instru- 
ments are disregarded for the instinct of the 
bird man, his whole being attuned to the 
whirr of his engine and the sense of stability 
that only comes to those who have flown hun- 
dreds and hundreds of hours. 

The landing flares of Le Bourget are out 
and after circling the field three times the en- 
gine is throttled down and the “‘stick’’ pushed 
forward until the ship assumes the proper 
gliding angle. ‘The angle is fairly steep, but as 
it nears the ground it becomes less acute as the 
pilot pulls the “stick” back. The end of the flare 
path is reached and with a little jerk of the 
“stick” backwards the ‘‘Spirit of St. Louis’’ set- 
tles to the ground and the Atlantic flight is 
over. The pilot reaches out and pushes down 

[159] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


the engine switches and the propeller stops. 

This is the routine of the flight, devoid of 
its thrills, as flyers see it who have spent much 
time above the earth or sea in all kinds of 
weather. 

In the illustrations found elsewhere are 
shown four outline planes with the three con- 
trols for maintaining stability. The horizontal 
stability is maintained by the left and right 
motion of the ‘joy stick,” which controls the 
ailerons. The lateral or fore and aft stability 
is effected by the same “stick’’ being moved 
forward and backward, making the plane 
dive and climb respectively. The directional 
stability is obtained by the use of the rudder 
and the attached rudder bar. 

Figure 1 shows a plane diving. The “‘stick” 
is pushed forward. This action pulls the ele- 
vators of the tail plane down. They react to 
the rush of air against them and force the nose 
down. 

Figure 2 gives an idea of an airplane’s con- 
trols when it is climbing. The angle of the 
controls is accentuated in all of these sketches 
for clarity, to show what happens. ‘The “‘stick”’ 
is pulled back and the elevators are up. ‘The 
[160] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


air passing over the surface forces the tail down 
and places the machine in a climbing position. 

Figure 3. A plane making a turn to the left. 
The ‘‘stick” is moved to the left until the 
proper bank is effected. ‘The left aileron go- 
ing up and the right down forces the plane to 
move around its fore and aft axis, dropping the 
left wing slightly. At the same time a little left 
rudder is applied and the ship continues around 
the turn. If the bank is not arrested by mov- 
ing the “‘stick”’ back to neutral, it will continue 
until the machine is over on its back. 

Figure 4 gives an idea of the positions of 
the controls when a plane is in a spinning nose 
dive. The elevators and rudder form a sort 
of conical pocket that imparts a twist to the 
plane, which can only be stopped by bringing 
the controls back to neutral and letting the 
plane drop in a straight nose dive, out of which 
it can be eased by pulling the “‘stick’’ back. 
This is known as a spinning nose dive; a tail- 
spin, as it is often erroneously: called, cannot 
be made in machines of the present design, 
which have their centers of gravity and thrust 
far forward. 

(See details in full page of illustrations.) 


[161] 


CHAPTER XVII 
RECEPTION IN FRANCE, BELGIUM, ENGLAND 


WHEN “‘Lindy’s” plane alighted on French 
soil at Le Bourget at 10:21 o'clock the evening 
of May 21, and scores of eager arms reached 
up to help him to the ground, even as he an- 
nounced ingenuously “I am Captain Lind- 
bergh,” the most important chapter in his life 
up to that minute came to an end, and another 
chapter, just as remarkable, but in an entirely 
different way, began. 

For to him was accorded a reception such as 
a triumphant Emperor might have received in 
the bygone ages of world conquerors, but which 
in modern history is unrivaled. Even the he- 
roes of the World War, the great statesmen of 
recent decades, or the most brilliant artists of 
the past century, including Jenny Lind, the 
idolized “Swedish Nightingale’ of three gen- 
erations ago, never aroused such universal ad- 

[162] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


miration, applause and acclamation as ‘‘Slim”’ 
met with wherever he went. 

From the moment ‘“‘Slim’s’’ boyish face 
bobbed up above the cockpit of his stout plane 
until distance blurred the flagship Memphis, on 
which he sailed from France two weeks later, 
on the evening of June 2, he was the cynosure 
of hundreds of millions of eyes; Kings and 
Princes forgot court etiquette in their eagerness 
to meet him; parliaments suspended their seri- 
ous business of state to pay homage to him; 
Europe’s biggest cities paused in their work to 
cheer him, and throughout the civilized world 
Lindbergh and his flight were the only impor- 
tant topics considered worth discussing. 

It started with the frenzied crowd of 20,000 
men and women who, after waiting for hours, 
broke through the police and military cordons 
at the Le Bourget flying field to be the first to 
greet the intrepid young American. The 
“Spirit of St. Louis’ had barely touched the 
ground when the first enthusiastic Frenchmen 
surrounded it, regardless of whirling propeller 
and onrushing wheels. 

It was a scene of a vast sea of pushing, mill- 
ing, swirling humanity such as seldom occurs. 

[163] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


The glaring searchlights and signals of the air- 
drome, all trained on the little craft that had 
braved, and won over, the elements, gave the 
picture a fantastic setting. 

As soon as ‘“‘Slim”’ stood up in the cockpit, a 
tremendous cheer went up, which was taken up 
by the thousands further behind until the chorus 
of 20,000 voices uplifted in thunderous ac- 
clamation sounded like the roar of innumerable 
guns in battle. 

“Lindy” loked tremendously tired, but even 
the fatigue of sitting for a day and a half in 
One position and without sleep was unable to 
keep his boyish smile from his lips. The smile 
was received with another outburst of enthusi- 
astic shouting. Somewhat dazed by the uproar, 
he began to climb out of the plane. 

But as soon as he had swung one leg over the 
cockpit, scores of hands graspd it and began 
pulling, and then he was lifted clear of the 
machine and hoisted on several broad shoul- 
ders, whose owners looked up at him with 
gleaming eyes and proud smiles. 

Those unable to get a hold of some sort on 
the object of their idolization, endeavored to 
get as near as possible, to feast their eyes on 

[164] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


him and add their personal tributes to the gen- 
eral shouting, with the result that for half an 
hour “‘Slim’’ was marooned in the midst of the 
huge crowd, his bearers being pushed first this 
way and then that. 

Then two French officers succeeded in push- 
ing their way through the mob. When they got 
to “Slim,” several of the men carrying him 
obeyed the officers’ request to place him on his 
feet, but in the general excitement he slipped 
and lost his helmet. This helped to divert the 
attention of the enthusiastic Frenchmen, who 
mistook another American, who had picked up 
the helmet, for Capt. Lindbergh and hoisted 
him on their shoulders, thus giving ‘‘Slim” a 
chance to slip away and, under the guidance of 
the French officers, to reach the pavilion where 
the official reception committee and Myron T. 
Herrick, the American Ambassador, were wait- 
ing. 

The wonderful reception left ‘‘Lindy” 
breathless and speechless. When he was face 
to face with Ambassador Herrick, who shook 
his hand vigorously and welcomed him in the 
name of two nations, ‘‘Slim’’ seemed to be all 
in. in answer to the Ambassador’s brief re- 

[165] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


marks, his smile flashed up and he replied, 
“Thank you. I am awfully happy.” But he 
seemed to have reached the limit of his endur- 
‘ance. The next moment he seemed to be going 
to sleep on his feet. 

Even when a thunderous cry went up for 
Capt. Lindbergh to show himself on the balcony 
of the pavilion, he was too tired to answer it, 
but the crowd kept on shouting until French 
officials announced that their hero had been car- 
ried off by the American Ambassador and prob- 
ably was in bed by that time. The thousands 
then surged around the “‘Spirit of St. Louis” in 
quest of souvenirs and began to tear off bits of 
canvas from the wings, but French police and 
soldiers arrived in time to save the plane from 
serious damage. 

But although he slept in Ambassador Her- 
rick’s car which took him to Paris, and was un- 
able to climb the stairs of the Embassy without 
assistance, the dauntless spirit that had borne 
him across the broad Atlantic flickered up again 
for a brief period before he composed himself 
for his well-earned sleep. 

After an invigorating cup of coffee and a 
bath, he sat up long enough to give a graphic 

[166] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


outline of his record-breaking flight. He was 
clad in his host’s pajamas as he answered ques- 
tions at 3 o’clock in the morning. 

“Why, everything went just right,” he de- 
clared with shining eyes. “Nothing went wrong 
on the whole trip. Everything was as I would 
have asked it except for 1,000 miles of fog and 
rain in the middle of the Atlantic. I couldn’t 
get over or under it. 

“T had to steer dead ahead and thought I 
should never reach the end of it. I didn’t get 
sleepy, though. I wasn’t sleepy all the way. I 
could not afford to doze off except in clear 
weather. I hardly got hungry. I had four 
sandwiches, but ate only one anda half. I took 
three or four drinks of water. 

“I found steering easier than I expected. It 
was nowhere near so much strain as an automo- 
bile drive of half the time. The wind helped 
a lot and when I realized I was on the French 
coast long before dark, I sat back and looked 
for Paris. I picked up what I thought was the 
Seine and it proved to be, and I could see the 
city in the distance in the dark. Then I picked 
out the flying field by the directions and circled 
once to pick a spot to land. I meant to taxi up 

[167] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


to the shed, but when I saw that crowd I decided 
I would be worn to pieces.” 

And with these remarks, ‘Slim’ smiled, 
leaned back and sank into the arms of Mor- 
pheus. 

When ‘Slim’ woke up on Sunday afternoon 
he was the most famous man in the world. But 
one of the first things he did was to telephone 
to his mother in far-away Detroit, who had bid 
him farewell at Curtiss Field but eight days be- 
fore. It was the first time a private telephone 
call had ever been made between France and 
the United States, but after his marvelous feat 
nothing seemed impossible. 

The American Embassy was a bower of 
flowers, and thousands of other tributes, small, 
modest gifts as well as costly, pretentious pres- 
ents, expressing the homage of all classes of the 
French people, had arrived by the time ‘‘Slim”’ 
had had his belated breakfast. The whole city 
of Paris was decorated with American flags, as 
it had not been since President Wilson’s visit 
there in 1919, and bands and orchestras in 
every cafe and park played ‘The Star Spangled 
Banner,” ‘‘Hail Columbia’? and other Ameri- 
can patriotic songs. 


[168] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


Thousands of messages of congratulation 
were pouring in from all parts of the world, 
showing how the young American had caught 
the admiration of all the nations that had re- 
ceived word of his success by wireless and cable, 
and scores of prominent men called at the Em- 
bassy to leave personal messages of congratula- 
tion or to shake hands with him. 

The $25,000 prize offered by Raymond Or- 
teig, the New York hotel man, which had in- 
spired “Lindy” with the idea of attempting the 
non-stop flight and which he had now won, be- 
came a small figure beside the stupendous offers 
that were made to him within twenty-four hours 
of his arrival in Paris—offers running into hun- 
dreds of thousands of dollars—but already at 
this early stage of his success he showed that 
money as such played a small part in his ambi- 
tion. 

In his triumph, he remembered the gallant 
Frenchmen, Capt. Nungesser and Major Coll, 
who had disappeared in the great void of the 
Atlantic and whose mothers probably felt their 
loss the more. keenly since he had succeeded. 
And acting on one of those inspirations that 
have shown his understanding of the human 

[169] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


- heart and that have won him the love of the 


world as well as its admiration, the first thing 
he did when he left the American Embassy was 
to call on Mme. Nungesser in her tiny flat and 
express to her his admiration for her son, whom 
he had known in New York, and his hope that 
she would see him again. 

“You have done a wonderful thing, but you 
must now find him,” cried Mme. Nungesser as 
she took the young American to her bosom. 
‘You are the only man who can do it.” 

When “‘Slim’’ left her, he had succeeded in 
heartening a sorrowing mother. 

But compared with the days that followed, 
that first Sunday was a day of rest for “Slim.” 
When he got up on Monday and arrayed him- 
self in a suit of clothes belonging to one of the 
attendants of the Embassy, he found that 
France, Belgium, England, Sweden, Spain, Ger- 
many—in short, all of Europe—were clamor- 
ing for him. And with a smile he tried to 
please them all. 

His program started with a visit to President 
Doumergue of the French Republic. When 
“Slim” arrived at the Elysée Palace, accom- 
panied by Ambassador Herrick, the steps were 

[170] 


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YOMUVHE AYOA AAN NI ONILN IVS SLVOg AMZ AYOX AAN AHL ONIAMONS 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


lined with French officers of every rank—vet- 
erans of many famous battles of the World 
War. They stood stiffly: at attention to salute 
their young comrade from across the sea, but 
then, forgetting formality, they rushed up to 
him to embrace him and to shake his hand. 

After the President had been kept waiting 
for some time, ‘‘Slim” succeeded in extricating 
himself and was led into the presidential cham- 
bers. Without waiting for a formal presenta- 
tion, President Doumergue stepped forward to 
meet his guest, shook his hands heartily, then, 
like an old friend, placed his arm around © 
‘‘Lindy’s” shoulder and told him how proud he 
and the French people were of him and how 
they loved him. 

Then President Doumergue drew Capt. Lind- 
bergh closer, pinned the cross of the Legion of 
Honor on his breast and kissed him on both 
cheeks. ‘“‘Slim’s’’ eyes became moist and his 
face showed great emotion when the President 
inquired after his mother, remarked how proud 
she must be of her son and then placed into his 
hands a personally written letter to her, in 
which he expressed his admiration of a mother 
who had raised such a son as “Lindy.” 


[171] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


When the young flyer got back to the Em- 
bassy, telegrams of congratulations from King 
George V. of England and King Gustavus of 
Sweden were waiting for him. 

A big reception by Premier Raymond Poin- 
caré in the Ministry of Finance followed, and 
all rules and regulations were ignored by the 
employees who deserted their desks and cheered 
“Tindy” until they were hoarse. After that 
Capt. Lindbergh was hurried to the Aero Club 
de France, where he was decorated with the 
gold medal, the highest award of this organiza- 
tion and one which only such pioneers of avia- 
tion as Louis Bleriot, Farman, Santos Dumont 
and Latham had received before him. 

The following day he had two more novel 
experiences—he made his début as a public 
speaker whose words are cabled to all parts of 
the world. 

His maiden speech was made at a luncheon 
in his honor at the American Club, which for 
hours before was beleaguered by a big crowd 
trying to get in. It was a short talk, an ex- 
ample of simplicity and characteristic of his in- 
nate modesty. Deafening cheers interrupted 
him when he declared that ‘“‘there was no other 

[172] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


country in the world, after America, where we 
would like to land better than in France.” And 
a minute later he sat down with the remark, 
“T don’t want to take up any more of your time 
—so I'll quit.” 

The kissing episode came at a reception given 
in his honor at the flying field at Le Bourget, 
which was attended by many famous war aces 
and their wives. One petite French woman 
sidled up to him, gazed admiringly into his blue 
eyes and begged in good English, ‘‘May I kiss 
you?” “Slim” blushed, and it is not recorded 
whether he assented or not. At any rate he 
stooped down and the charming girl, standing 
on her tiptoes, threw her arms around his neck 
and kissed him warmly. But when some of the 
other girls and women present began to sur- 
round him resolutely and announced, “‘We’d like 
to kiss him, too,”’ he fled behind a row of air- 
planes lined up for him to inspect. 

By this time Ambassador Herrick had an- 
nounced that he had temporarily resigned his 
post in favor of Capt. Lindbergh who, during 
his stay in France, was ‘‘America’s unofficial 
Ambassador.” And on his fourth day in Paris 
“Slim” gave a demonstration of how he had 

[173] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


cemented the bonds of friendship between the 
two countries when the Chamber of Deputies 
dropped all its business and warmly: acclaimed 
him as another envoy of good will such as Ben- 
jamin Franklin had been 150 years before. 

On that day ‘‘Slim” also had luncheon with 
Louis Bleriot, the Lindbergh of 1909, who was 
the first man to cross the English Channel, mak- 
ing the flight in his tinderbox machine in thirty- 
seven minutes. At that time, M. Bleriot re- 
called smilingly, he was almost as big a hero as 
“Lindy” is to-day. 

But Capt. Lindbergh’s short stay in the 
French capital reached its climax on his fifth 
day, a Thursday, when he was the official guest 
of the City of Paris, and the whole population 
turned out to pay homage to him. A crowd ten 
times more eager to see him than that which 
greeted him on his arrival and numbering hun- 
dreds of thousands lined the two miles between 
the American Embassy and the Hotel de Ville 
(City Hall), and more than once surged for- 
ward and completely blocked his way. And the - 
parade which he led was one of the greatest 
demonstrations ever seen in Paris. Roses 
strewed the streets along which he rode, and 

[174] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


every tree and every window held three or four 
times their capacity of shouting ‘spectators. 
“Lindy” waved his hat and smiled in acknowl- 
edgment of the ovations. 

While the Gold Medal of the City of Paris 
was being handed him and speeches were made, 
the crowds outside howled for their idol to ap- 
pear on the balcony, and ultimately the cere- 
monies were cut short and “Slim’’ was led out 
on the balcony, accompanied by the American 
Ambassador. The cheering that continued 
even after he had disappeared inside again 
could be heard for miles. 

On the same day the young American flyer 
also visited three of France’s veteran soldiers 
and statesmen, Marshall Foch, Marshall Joffre 
and Aristide Briand, the Foreign Minister. All 
three forgot their years as they warmly wel- 
comed him and assured him they were his 
friends for always. 

The next day ‘Slim’ devoted to giving his 
thanks to the people of Paris in a characteris- 
tic way. He borrowed a Nieuport pursuit plane 
and took it up after a few minutes’ instruc- 
tion. It was the first time since his arrival that 
“Slim” was alone without being mobbed. Fly- 

[175] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


ing over Paris, he made for the Arc de Tri- 
omphe, hovering for a few minutes over the 
tomb of the Unknown Soldier, then circled 
around the Eiffel Tower twice and finally went 
into a tail-spin over the American Embassy. 
When he returned to Le Bourget, he put on a 
circus for his French fellow-aviators who 
watched his breath-taking stunts with admira- 
tion and scarcely concealed nervousness, and of- 
fered up thanks when once more he stood 
among them, smiling as they congratulated him 
on his skill. 

Hundreds of thousands of Parisians watched 
the “Spirit of St. Louis’ sail away the follow- 
ing day on its way to Brussels where a King 
and another nation waited impatiently for 
‘‘Slim’s” arrival. True to his promise, the 
young hero circled around Paris, taking in the 
“left bank” as well as the “right bank” and 
every foubourg before he set the nose of his 
plane north. 

Nearly 50,000 persons were at the Evere air- 
drome, just outside of Brussels, when he ar- 
rived there after a 190-mile flight, which took 
him over many famous battlefields. Two regi- 
ments of soldiers held back the impatient 

[176] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


crowds as Capt. Lindbergh taxied up ‘o the re- 
ception committee, and a tumultous greeting 
went up as soon as his famous smile became visi- 
ble. But as soon as he had been led to a wait- 
ing automobile and started on his way to the 
American Embassy, the crowds broke through 
the cordon of soldiers and raced to see the 
“Spirit of St. Louis.” 

Followed by a cheering throng of many thou- 
sands, “‘Slim’’ was escorted from the Embassy 
to the tomb of Belgian’s Unknown Soldier, 
where he placed a wreath after police had suc- 
ceeded in clearing a space for him. And many 
more thousands joined the procession when he 
drove to the Naval Palace in response to an in- 
vitation from the Duke and Duchess of Bra- 
bant, heirs to the Belgian throne and the first 
personages of royal blood “Lindy” had met up 
to that time. From there Capt. Lindbergh 
was escorted to the Royal Palace and into the 
presence of King Albert of the Belgians who 
decorated him with the Order of Leopold, mak- 
ing him a Chevalier of that order. Among 
those present at the ceremony were Crown 
Prince Leopold, whom he had met earlier, 
Prime Minister Jasper and a group of other 

[177] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


distinguished Belgians. ‘‘Slim” was thoroughly 
at home with King Albert, who chatted with 
him amiably about aviation and, in return for 
the young American’s story of the trans-Atlan- 
tic hop, told him of his own experiences in air- 
planes, the King being an enthusiastic aviation 
fan himself. 

The King then presented him to Queen Eliza- 
beth and other members of the royal household. 
While talking with “Lindy,” the Queen ob- 
served: 

‘‘T am sure your mother is proud of you and 
that she is the happiest woman in the world.” 

“Lindy” flushed with pleasure as he thanked 
the Queen. 

The famous Croydon airdrome near London 
—one of the largest aviation fields in the 
world—was jammed from end to end when 
the drone of ‘“‘Lindy’s” airplane became audible 
shortly after 6 o’clock the next afternoon after 
he had crossed the English Channel on a visit 
to England. 

Provision had been made for a crowd of 50,- 
000 to welcome the young American aviator, 
but between 100,000 and 200,000 were on hand 
as the ‘Spirit of St. Louis” landed, and police- 

[178] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


men, dignitaries in uniform and others in high 
hats, fences and roped lines—in short, every- 
thing that had been so carefully laid out for 
the official reception—were swept like chaff be- 
fore a storm when the huge wave of humanity 
surged forward. 

Never in the history: of old London has any 
man, native or foreigner, been given such a re- 
ception. The Paris reception was a Sunday 
school meeting compared with the Gargantuan 
outburst of enthusiasm that greeted “Lindy” 
in London. 

Capt. Lindbergh barely had time to shut off 
his motor when the uncontrollable mob closed 
in on him on all sides like a tidal wave. He 
sat huddled back in his cockpit when the howl- 
ing, stampeding, roaring mob surrounded him 
and his plane. Every one seemed crazy to 
touch the machine even so much as with a finger 
tip. They patted it, felt the tenseness of the 
fabric of the wings, tugged at the propeller, 
kicked the tires of the landing wheels—and 
stared. Ten thousands of pairs of eyes stared 
eagerly and impatiently, waiting for their hero 
to appear. 

“For God’s sake, save my machine!” 

[179] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


“Lindy,” begged the first policemen who 
reached the plane and helped him out. Within 
a few minutes, several hundred “‘bobbies” had 
arrived and started pushing back the crowd be- 
fore the ‘‘Spirit of St. Louis’” was reduced to 
wreckage. When he finally reached the quiet 
precincts of the American Embassy, ‘‘Slim”’ 
said that he had never been so scared in all his 
life. But before he left the field, he appeared 
on the roof of one of the office buildings and 
after acknowledging the roaring greeting that 
lasted for many minutes, he shouted through 
a megaphone: 

““[ just want to say that this is worse than 
Le Bourget—or better.” 

After a comparatively quiet Monday, during 
which he attended a Memorial Day service in 
St. Margaret’s Church and then laid a wreath 
on the tomb of Great Britain’s Unknown Sol- 
dier, ‘‘Slim”’ had his busiest day in Europe. But 
the outstanding event of that day was his visit 
to King George and Queen Mary. 

King George was waiting for the young 
American when he was ushered into one of the 
salons of Buckingham Palace at 10:45 o’clock 


in the morning. As ‘‘Slim”’ later explained, the 
[180] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


King was quite different from the haughty and 
aloof personage he had expected. The King 
was so democratic and showed so much genuine 
interest in his guest’s conversation that “Lindy” 
had no chance to feel self-conscious or uncom- 
fortable. After a fifteen minutes’ chat, Queen 
Mary joined them and expressed her admira- 
tion of Captain Lindbergh’s daring flight. The 
King then bestowed on “Slim” the Flying 
Force Cross, a decoration held by only a few, 
Commander Read of the NC-4 and his crew be- 
ing the only other Americans to whom it has 
been awarded. Before he left Buckingham Pal- 
ace, ““Lindy”’ met King George’s granddaughter, 
Princess Elizabeth, daughter of the Duke and 
Duchess of York. 

A visit to the Prince of Wales at York House 
followed. The Prince was cordial in his re- 
ception of the young flyer from across the At- 
lantic and congratulated him on his courage in 
making the hop across the ocean alone. He 
asked ‘‘Slim’” what his plans were for the 
future, and was informed by his guest that he 
meant to stick to the flying game. 

Before being received by the members of the 
Royal Family, Captain Lindbergh called at No. 

[181] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


10 Downing Street, the famous residence of 
England’s Prime Ministers. Premier Stanley 
Baldwin and Mrs. Baldwin welcomed him cor- 
dially, and the Premier, from the balcony of 
‘‘No. 10” showed him the trooping of the col- 
ors, one of the time-honored military cere- 
monies of London. 

In the afternoon, while he was the guest of 
Lady Astor in the distinguished strangers’ gal- 
lery, the House of Commons forgot its debates 
for a short time and all its members rose to 
salute him. And a few hours later, when he 
appeared at the annual Derby Ball at Albert 
Hall, arriving almost at the same time as the 
Prince of Wales, dancing was suspended while 
the band struck up ‘‘Yankee Doodle” and then 
somebody began singing “For He’s a Jolly 
Good Fellow,” a tune which was taken up by all 
the prominent members of the nobility present, 
even the Prince of Wales joining in. Then 
there was the usual cry, “Speech!’’—a cry now 
familiar to “Lindy,” and he answered briefly by 
assuring his admirers that the reception had 
been “‘one of the greatest of my life.” 

Earlier in the day he was the guest of honor 


at a luncheon of the Air Council, at which Sir 
[182] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


Samuel Hoare, Secretary for the Air, offered 
the following toast: 

‘“To-day I ask you to drink to the health of 
Captain Lindbergh as the pilot who has broken 
the world’s record and as a worthy represen- 
tative of our close friends and war allies, the 
pilots of the United States of America. Still 
more, however, do I ask you to drink to his 
health as a young man who embodies the spirit 
of adventure and lights up the world with a 
flash of courage and daring, and, I am glad 
to say, of success.” 

The next day was ‘‘Derby Day,” the greatest 
sporting holiday of the year in England, and 
“Lindy” shared the limelight with King George 
and Queen Mary at the famous race-course. It 
was “Slim’s” first ‘Derby’ and, incidentally, 
also his first attendance at the races anywhere. 
And when the great classic was being run off 
and everybody, even the King and Queen, rose 
to their feet in their excitement, Captain Lind- 
bergh alone remained in his seat, looking bored 
rather than thrilled. 

“Well, did you have a little flutter, Cap- 
tain?” an English reporter asked him after he 
returned to London. 


[183] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


‘A flutter?” repeated ‘Lindy,’ somewhat 
mystified. 

‘‘That means, did you have a bet?” 

“Oh, I thought it was something to do with 
the heart,’ laughed the flyer. “No, I didn’t 
even try to back the winner, though many peo- 
ple gave me the inside information—and most 
of it would have been wrong. But I must re- 
member that about the flutter. We have 
strange terms in aéronautics, but racing seems 
to have it beat.” 

‘So you still prefer to be an airman, rather 
than a jockey?” he was asked. 

“T wouldn’t stand much chance against those 
wonderful little men,’ ‘‘Slim” replied. “I 
think they need as much courage as a pilot, if 
not more. What a scramble as the horses 
dashed away from the post! I should have 
been scared on one of those horses. Give me 
the loneliness of the Atlantic.” 

It was on this day that Captain Lindbergh 
accepted President Coolidge’s invitation to re- 
turn home on the U.S.S. Memphis on June 2. 
Having personally supervised the dismantling 
of the “Spirit of St. Louis’ at Gosport, near 
Southampton, and given instructions as to how 

[184] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


it was to be crated, “‘Lindy”’ resigned himself to 
being parted from the plane for a short time 
and found cheer in the thought that the ma- 
chine would cross with him on the same ship. 

At a banquet in the evening, given by the 
American Societies, Captain Lindbergh paid a 
sincere tribute to the English flyers who had 
made the first flight across the Atlantic. 

‘Alcock and Brown were the first men to 
fly the Atlantic,” he said. “I hope the flight 
we just made will aid in the development of 
aviation. We must not forget the wonderful 
flights of British airmen to India and other dis- 
tant points, which have been the source of so 
much encouragement to us in America. Then 
again during the war we had marvelous feats 
of flying on the part of British and other Allied 
flyers, and these feats will never again be 
equalled in courage and daring.” 

In accordance with his promise to the French 
people that he would start on his return trip 
to America from their country, ‘‘Lindy’”’ left 
London the following day in a fighting plane 
placed at his disposal by the Royal Air Force, 
but a dense fog over the Channel caused him 
to interrupt his flight at the Kenley airdrome 

[185] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


where he spent the night as the guest of his Eng- 
lish brother-flyers. The next morning he 
started again, although the air was still foggy, 
and while flying with a regular passenger plane 
that was acting as a guide, he looped the loop 
above the Channel for the entertainment of the 
other plane’s passengers. 

Before leaving Paris on his way home, 
“Slim” was again féted and honored by the 
population, by societies, veterans’ organiza- 
tions, and private individuals in every walk of 
life. Among the honors conferred on him was 
the insignia of the Lafayette Escadrille, the 
American aviation squadron which fought with 
France before the United States entered the 
war. 

Living up to his reputation of traveling only 
in the air, until the last minute he was on 
European soil, “Lindy” made the trip from 
Paris to Cherbourg in another borrowed air- 
plane, accompanied by a French plane. The 
seaport town of Cherbourg, where many great 
personages have embarked and debarked, gave 
“Lindy” another reception which was unrivaled 
in its history. 

When the hour of the departure of the 

[186] 


THe New York PARADE IN THE GRAND CANYON OF BROADWAY 
NEAR WALL STREET 


GREAT New YORK PARADE AT THE CORNER OF BROADWAY 


AND MAIDEN LANE. 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


U.S.S. Memphis approached, the streets near 
the harbor and the docks were black with peo- 
ple. Just before he stepped aboard the launch, 
“Slim” went into the Gare Maritime (Marine 
Railroad Station) and unveiled a plaque com- 
memorating his first reaching France near Cher- 
bourg. The crowds broke through the police 
lines and jammed the building, so that a ruse 
had to be resorted to to permit his escape. 

As the launch with Captain Lindbergh drew 
alongside the cruiser, whose crew was lined up 
to greet him, all the whistles in the harbor be- 
gan to blow and flags and banners went up on 
every ship in sight. 

‘When are you coming back? When are you 
coming back ?” were the last words ‘‘Slim” was 
able to hear as the anchors were weighed. 

There were many moist eyes on shore as the 
big cruiser faded in the distance, and millions 
of hearts in France and many other European 
countries were filled with regret when news of 
his leaving was broadcast. 

But on the other side of the Atlantic, a hun- 
dred and twenty millions of his own people 
were waiting impatiently to take him to their 
heart. 


[187] 


CHAPTER XVIII 
THE PERILS OF THE NORTH ATLANTIC 


The perils of the North Atlantic air, its 
sudden angers, its savage cruelties, were well 
known to “Slim” Lindbergh when he set forth 
to dare and overcome them. ‘They had never 
come within his own experience, to be sure, but 
he knew from report and from tragic silence 
just what that windy waste had done to his 
venturesome clan. 

He had vividly before him the utter dis- 
appearance of Captain Charles Nungesser, 
France’s ace of aces, and his skilled navigator, 
Major Francois Coli, while seeking the same 
palm for which he was to strive, flight between 
New York and Paris, though they had elected 
to take the sterner western course. ‘They were 
last seen on May 8, 1927, a-wing and roaring 
toward their goal. And only twelve days later, 
the gallant Frenchmen gone to the unknown 

[188] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


grave of the soldier, “Slim” took off along the 
same path that had led them to destruction. 

If “Slim” ever gave a thought to this, be- 
yond regret, he assuredly evinced no sign of 
it, and what he did later proves it, because air 
pilots must not let such things linger in their 
minds, else they cease to be air pilots. 

But long before this, he had learned what 
the sky-hooting Atlantic could do to any who 
had the temerity to brave its tossing air levels 
on man-made wings. Because graphic accounts 
of almost fatal encounters with adverse 
weather conditions had been brought back by 
Commander A. C. Read, U.S.N.; Harry 
Hawker, the plucky British civilian flyer; Cap- 
tain Sir John Alcock, R.A.F.; the United 
States’ Around the World Flyers, led by Major 
Martin, who was lost in the first stages of this 
historic flight in a fog off the Alaskan coast; 
Captain Ross-Smith, Major Sir Alan Cobham 
and Captain Cedric Howell, of the British 
Royal Air Force; Commander the Marquis 
Francesco di Pinedo, of Italy, who ‘‘blazed the 
trails” to Australia and the Far East, and flew 
his plane to Africa, South America and the 
United States, and then was forced to land in 

[189] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


the sea 150 miles from the Azores on a flight 
from Newfoundland; Commander Richard E. 
Byrd, U.S.N., the Pole flyer, whom he fore- 
stalled on the flight to Paris, and the aeronauts 
of the Amundsen-Ellsworth-Nobile ee 
to the North Pole. 

The two notable exceptions in the history of 
trans-Atlantic hops are the flights of the big 
rigid lighter-than-air ship, the R-34, the British 
craft, and the ZR-3, built for the United States 
in Germany. 

Both of these dirigibles seemed to come 
through without the interferences that proved 
so hazardous for the heavier-than-air planes. 
The R-34, it will be recalled, made the trip in 
June, 1919, and returned to Pulham, England, 
after spending a few days at Mineola. 

The flights, both East and West, were made 
during the period when the Atlantic is as smooth 
as the proverbial mill pond. The ZR-3, later 
named Los Angeles, picked a less favorable 
time of the year for her flight from Friedrichs- 
hafen, Germany, to Lakehurst, which was made 
in October, 1924. However, she came through 
in one of those quiet periods with little or no 
trouble. ‘The only unfavorable condition met 

[190] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


by either of these Leviathans of the air was 
some intermittent fog that had no effect upon 
their progress, thanks to the aid of directional 
wireless. 

With few exceptions in the past eight years 
of aerial conquest, the epoch-making flights 
that have carried the conquerors of the un- 
charted air to the far corners of the world, 
weather had been a dominant factor. 

Which flyer encountered the worst weather 
no one will ever know, because some of them 
never returned to recount their adventures. 
Flyers have succumbed in all quarters of the 
globe to the implacable antagonism of wind 
and storm. From the bleak, ice-bound, wind- 
swept wastes of the North Atlantic to the tor- 
rid, stifling atmosphere of the Far East death 
has stalked the airways. 

Defects in engines, plane construction and 
the instruments for their proper control and 
guidance are seldom at fault in these daring 
flights. It is not in the man-made things that 
the aviator finds his limitations. 

Harry Hawker is a notable exception to 
this, for in his 14-hour effort to span the 
Atlantic in a single flight in May, 1919, the 

[191] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


failure of a water filter, which permitted the 
overheating of his motor, was the direct cause 
of his drop into the ocean. He had against him 
low-lying clouds, heavy seas and a dense fog, to 
say nothing of a strong northerly gale which 
blew him 150 miles south of his course. Com- 
mander McKenzie Grieve, R.N., who was his 
navigator, found it difficult, because of the poor 
visibility and continual fog, to do much better 
than make rough calculations. 

At the time Hawker made his flight with 
Grieve, a prize of $25,000 for a trans-Atlantic 
flight had been offered by the Daily Mail of 
London, and though these two airmen failed in 
their effort, it was so stirring in its character 
that a consolation prize of the same amount 
was presented to each of them. 

Harry Hawker is dead, having crashed in 
flames at Hendon, England, two years after his 
attempted crossing of the Atlantic, but his name 
will never be forgotten. 

There is something of a parallel between the 
Hawker flight and the fateful one of Nungesser 
and Coli, as he and Grieve sought to ‘‘beat 
everybody else to it” by taking off over the sea 
several days before it was expected they would. 

[192] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


And they did it with no instruments save a 
compass—there were then none of the delicate 
devices which serve to-day to guide air pilots— 
so they had to lay their course almost by dead 
reckoning. 

In their little Sopwith biplane, the same type 
of craft the British had used in the World War, 
they rose from the airdrome at St. John’s, 
Newfoundland, on the afternoon of May 18, 
1919. The plane looked hardly larger than a 
toy when it maneuvered around until Hawker 
dropped his landing gear. This was one of 
the most daring strokes of his adventure, for 
he had no pontoons and had he succeeded in 
making Ireland, his objective, he would vir- 
tually have had to dive into the earth in order 
to make a landing. 

Word flashed around the globe that the first 
Atlantic flight was under way. ‘The daring of 
the adventure, at a time when every other 
prospective Atlantic flyer was taking all the 
time he pleased to assure a maximum of 
safety, gave a thrill to the entire civilized 
world. 

But the hours wore on and lengthened into 
days. And no word came from Hawker. Wire- 

[193] 


CHARLES A, LINDBERGH 


less the world over was kept on the alert to 
pick up any scrap of message, but there was 
only silence. And, finally, eight days after 
the heroic pair had hopped off, a reluctant 
world concluded that death had flown with 
Hawker and Grieve. 

There was one, however, who had reached 
no such conclusion. This was Mrs. Harry 
Hawker, the pilot’s wife, who met all inquiries 
at her home in London with a smile. 

‘You just wait,” she replied to all questions. 
“He'll show up. I have a premonition of it.” 

Then on May 25, a sleepy coast guard at 
Butt of Lewis, the northernmost point of the 
Hebrides, was signaled by a small steamer 
which pulled in perilously near the rocks to 
tell him something. Groaning at the interrup- 
tion he asked by means of flags, what was 
wanted. 

“Saved hands of Sopwith airplane,” the sig- 
nal came back. 

“Ts it Hawker?” asked the fast-awakening 
coast guard. 

“Yes,”’ proclaimed the ship’s flags. 

So the news was flashed to a world already 
in mourning. Later, when the British Govern- 
ment sent a destroyer to take the flyers off the 

[194] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


Danish ship and they were landed at Thurso, 
Scotland, the story was told. 

Hawker and Grieve learned soon after they 
had hopped off that they could never make it. 
Trouble developed in the water filter of their 
radiator, and at times it became so hot that 
their water boiled for hours. They had been 
forced to go up 15,000 feet to fly over a 
tremendous fog bank, but then had to come 
down into the bank to cool their water. They 
had flown about seven hours when they knew 
they would have to give up, so they cruised 
around in search of a ship, and finally sighted 
the Mary, the little Danish ship. 

The Mary had no wireless, so there were no 
means of flashing word of the rescue until the 
ship sighted land. The delay was just eight 
days. 

Harry Hawker will always be remembered 
as a man who gambled courageously with 
death. His very name had become a synonym 
for taking great risks with a light heart and 
with a positive indifference to attendant perils. 
Prior to his death he had become known among 
his friends as ‘‘the man who won't be killed,” 
and up to his fatal accident he probably had 

[195] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


more escapes from death than any other aviator 
or automobile driver in the world. 

Even before he took up flying his life had 
been filled with daring things. 

His real career in the air began in 1912, 
when he flew a Farman biplane in England. In 
1913 he won the altitude contest at Hendon, 
England, making 7,400 feet, and a short time 
later he went up 10,500 feet with two pas- 
sengers. The next year he fell 1,000 feet at 
Brooklands, England, and when an appalled 
assemblage rushed to his plane to extricate his 
body, he got to his feet, brushed himself off and 
smiled. For, outside of a few scratches, he 
appeared to be unhurt. 

During the war he carried out invaluable 
tests for the Sopwith Aviation Company of 
England, and it was in a Sopwith plane that he 
attained his greatest height. This was 24,408 
feet, made at Brooklands in 1917. | 

It was July 12, 1921, that his end came. He 
had been testing a plane for an aerial derby at 
Hendon, where he had made his first flights, 
and had reached an altitude of about 5,000 feet 
when his machine went wrong. 

Those watching him from the ground saw 

[196] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


him nose his plane earthward in an attempt to 
make a landing. Some said he could have 
accomplished this had it not been for the 
presence of a crowd on a plot of ground he had 
hoped to use for his landing. 

In his effort to avoid coming down in the 
midst of this crowd, he swerved too suddenly 
and his engine burst into flames and side-slipped 
when he was yet about 300 feet from the 
ground. Hawker fell clear of the machine, 
landing about 100 feet away, a blazing torch. 
Several policemen and a doctor rushed to his 
aid, but by the time they had extinguished the 
flames he was so badly burned that he died ten 
minutes later in the surgeon’s arms. 

Then, as the result of an inquest, his friends 
received the shock of their lives. For it was 
disclosed that spinal tuberculosis, caused by his 
1,000-foot fall in 1914, had made inroads to 
such an extent that it resulted in a paralytic 
stroke in mid-air. In short, despite the fact 
that he had never mentioned the fact to any of 
his intimates, he probably had known all the 
while that his days were numbered. In the 
face of this he was priming his machine to enter 
one of England’s greatest air derbies. 

[197] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


The famous flight of the NC-4 and the crew 
under Commander Albert Cushing Read, 
U.S.N., the first airship to cross the Atlantic, 
which started from Trepassey on April 8, 1919, 
is replete with the hazards imposed by the ele- 
ments. Fog, rain and high winds buffeted and 
threw its companions, the NC-1 and NC-3, 
about until their navigators became lost and 
were forced to a landing in a heavy sea. 

The NC-1 broke up after her crew had been 
taken off by one of the patrol boats, and the 
NC-3, after being flung about like a chip for 
three days, finally made port under her own 
power. She taxied into Porta Delgada with a 
crippled wing and was disabled beyond repair. 

Commander Read was the only one who 
weathered the storms. He landed on schedule 
in the harbor of Horta, in the Azores, without 
mishap, and went on to Lisbon, Portugal, com- 
pleting the first flight under the most trying of 
weather conditions. 

The NC-3 ran into sudden squalls of such 
violence that Commander J. H. Powers, her 
skipper, was forced to turn and fly ahead of 
them to avoid being wrecked. 

Capt. Sir John Alcock, who made the first 

[198] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


non-stop flight between the New and Old 
Worlds in June, 1919, had a continual battle 
with fog, sleet, mist, rain and poor visibility. 
At no altitude between the crests of the waves 
and 13,000 feet did he find strata favorable to 
aerial navigation. He followed in his sixteen- 
hour and twelve-minute flight a lane of the 
trans-Atlantic steamers, and not once was a ship 
sighted that could have lent possible aid in the 
event of a forced landing. From the time he 
left Newfoundland until he came down at 
Clifden, Ireland, not a soul set eyes on him. 

Alcock’s plane was ice-coated practically the 
entire distance. ‘It was hailing and snowing,” 
he said in recounting the troubles of the flight. 
‘“The machine was covered with ice by 6 o'clock 
in the morning and remained so until an hour 
before we landed. My radiator shutter and 
water temperature indicator were covered with 
ice for more than five hours.” 
_ Alcock flew so long without a_ horizon, 
through fog banks and low clouds that the sixth 
sense of stability, so pertinently a part of a suc- 
cessful flyer’s endowment, became deadened, 
and he found himself doing perilous flat spins, 
loops and dives. 

[199] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


Lieut. Sir Arthur W. Brown, his navi- 
gator, made four observations during the flight 
which were permitted by breaks in the clouds 
which only momentarily afforded a “‘shot” at 
the sun, the moon, the North star and Vega. 
Beyond this, a crudely developed wireless direc- 
tion finder and a compass were their only aids. 

Strange as it may seem, Alcock met death in 
a fog while flying to an international aerial 
meet near Dieppe, France. 

Capt. Ross Smith, who in 1919 made a 
dash half way around the world from Houns- 
low, England, to Port Darwin, Australia, in 
twenty-eight days, covered the greater part of 
his 11,294-mile flight in the teeth of weather 
conditions. In his trip across Europe, Africa, 
Arabia, India, China and Australia he encoun- 
tered about every kind of them. 

The shortness of his hops made it possible 
for him to descend when conditions aloft 
threatened his destruction. The only time that 
he forced the issue against his better judgment 
in a gamble with the weather was when Pou- 
lette, the French entrant in the race, appeared 
to have a chance to nose Smith out of the prize 
money. 

[200] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


The two flyers met at Rangoon and flew to- 
gether to Bankok. When they departed an 
equatorial gale caught Poulette and threw him 
back to Rangoon. Smith, by good fortune, 
skirted to the north of the storm and came 
through. Snow, fog and blinding rain, bitter 
cold and intense heat were encountered in a 
single day and in his diary Smith makes the 
notation: “The worst flying conditions I have 
ever encountered.” 

Capt. Smith, while preparing for a ’round 
the world flight, was killed at Brooklands in 
April, 1922. 

The American Around the World Flyers 
have a log of their trip that speaks volumes on 
the adversity of wind and weather, which is an 
important chapter in the great human chronicle 
- of the attempts of man to master the elements. 
The weather was against them practically every 
step of the way, and when they landed, some 
five and a half months after leaving California, 
at Ice Tickle, Labrador, in the teeth of a forty- 
mile gale, they had passed through tornadoes, 
blizzards, fogs in the Pacific, typhoons of 
Japan, monsoons, sand storms and over ice- 
bergs and through North Atlantic gales and 

[201] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


fogs. From the day that Major Martin 
crashed in an Alaskan fog the outcome of the 
flight was a gamble with the weather. First 
one and then the other of the army planes was 
reported lost in a storm, but invariably turned 
up a few days later in some sheltering haven. 

Commander John Rodgers, who attempted 
a flight from San Francisco, August 31, 1925, 
to Pear] Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands, was 
forced down within a few hundred miles of his 
goal by lack of gasoline. Heavy head winds 
cut down his ground speed so that it was 1m- 
possible with the supply of fuel he carried to 
make good his jump. The last message re- 
ceived from him before he disappeared for 
nine days with his crew was the one sent to the 
United States Ship Tangiers, a mine sweeper 
that was stationed in the Pacific for the flight, 
which said: “Are you in this hellish rain too? 
We will crack up if we have to land in this 
rough sea without motor power.” 

The wireless of the PN-g, his seaplane, then 
went out of commission and nothing more was 
heard of him until September 10, when the 
submarine R-4 picked him up as it was about 
to abandon the search. 

[202] 


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THE ILLUMINATED SCROLL PRESENTED TO COL. LINDBERGH BY 
Mayor WALKER, NEw York City 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


A year later, almost to the day, Rodgers was 
killed while landing a plane at the Philadelphia 
Navy Yard. 

Major Sir Alan Cobham, who during the 
last three years has flown a distance equivalent 
to a trip to the moon, has had some interesting 
and hair-raising experiences, thanks to the un- 
expected and unforeseen changes in weather. 
His short hops in his flight to India in 1925, 
as well as his trip from London to Melbourne 
in 1925, and his flight from London to Cape 
Town and return last year, have spared him 
the necessity of pushing on against inevitable 
destruction. If Cobham had been faced with 
no alternative but to fly ahead as trans-Atlantic 
airmen must, he would probably have long since 
perished. Regardless of what comes or goes 
the only chance of the trans-Atlantic flyer is to 
plug straight through and trust to the aviator’s 
trinity—the three G’s—the Grace of God and 
Gravity. 

Most of Cobham’s difficulties were encoun- 
tered in a rarified atmosphere, where the ter- 
rific heat of the sun digs death traps or holes 
in the air that let a plane drop thousands of 
feet before it attains sufficient speed to get the 

[203] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


proper reaction of air pressure on its wings to 
afford buoyancy. Because of these pockets 
and the torturing effect of blistering hot air 
blowing over one at the rate of 120 or 130 
miles an hour, Cobham prefers to do his flying 
of the future in the northern part of the North- 
ern Hemisphere. 

Commander the Marquis di Pinedo, who had 
already flown from Rome to Tokio, was on the 
last lap of a flight which had taken him from 
Italy to Africa, across the Atlantic, over South 
American jungles, across the United States and 
a large part of Canada, when, on May 24, 
1927, he was found drifting in his plane 200 
miles north of the Azores. He had taken off 
from Trepassy, Newfoundland, the day before, 
bound for these islands, but was found con- 
siderably north of the straight path. 

Strong head winds had reduced his speed to 
one-third and thus exhausted his gas supply. 
He came down upon the sea near a Portuguese 
sailing vessel, which took him in tow. Two 
days later the Italian steamship Superga picked 
up him and his crew and took them to Azores. 

The Marquis is probably the most careful of 

[204] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


all the great flyers, and when faced with dan- 
gerous atmospheric conditions lets discretion 
outweigh a desire to tilt with the elements in 
playing a game where the cards are stacked 
against him. In May, 1927, while flying from 
Boston to Philadelphia, he ran into heavy fog 
and threatening atmospheric conditions, and 
without further ado came to a landing in the 
East River. There he rode at anchor until a 
change in conditions permitted him to proceed 
in safety. He takes no foolhardy chances, as 
is evidenced in his hop across the South Atlan- 
tic. He had hoped to make Brazil in one jump 
and passed some islands in his dash for the 
mainland, when he noticed the water was too 
rough and the winds too high for safety, so he 
turned about and went back to the islands. 
Lieut. Commander Richard E. Byrd, in 
his fifteen-hour dash from Spitzbergen to the 
North Pole, encountered little of the hazards 
of the Arctic air, and aside from being frost- 
bitten, was little worse for his experience. 
The flight of the Norge, the Italian dirigible, 
from Rome to Teller, Alaska, across the top 
of the earth in May of 1926 was a battle 
against the weather that only the proverbial 
[205] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


luck of Roald Amundsen, the veteran Arctic 
explorer, could have overcome. Heavy winds — 
and dense fog as well as an accumulation of ice 
on the covering of the big ship were the ele- 
ments pitted against them in a twenty-five-hour 
battle to make a safe landing. Had they been 
flying a machine of the heavier than air type it 
is more than probable that they would still be 
counted among the missing. 

In 1923 the big rigid Dixmude, which flew 
from Marseilles to the Sahara and back, a 
distance of 4,500 miles, came to an untimely 
end in a lightning storm off the coast of Sicily. 
Several months later her fate was definitely 
known when a charred gas tank was washed 
ashore. 

Our own ill-fated Shenandoah, which came 
down in the Ohio Valley after being broken in 
half during a storm, is mute evidence of the 
will and power of the’ forces of nature. 

Somewhere back of the “great beyond,” in a 
place as remote as the dwelling of the Dawn, 
in the Valhalla to which all heroes of the air 
must finally wend their way, lies the secret not 
only of Nungesser’s failure but that of the 
others who have gambled with the elements and 
lost. 

[206] 


CHAPTER XIX 


““TINDY’’ ARRIVES ON THE U.S.S. MEMPHIS—AND 
WASHINGTON’S SPLENDID RECEPTION 


THE crowd which was admitted to the Wash- 
ington Navy Yard only by card, stamped with 
the seal of the Navy Department, began arriv- 
ing there at 9 o’clock on the morning of June 
II, 1927, to greet the distinguished youth. All 
paths led to the Mayflower’s wharf, where lay 
the President’s yacht. She had been warped up 
to the west end of the pier to give the U.S.S. 
Memphis place of honor, when she would reach 
the yard. 

At 9:35 the large dirigible Los Angeles ap- 
peared to the south of the Navy Yard, on the 
Virginia shore. There was a slight haze, but 
the Los Angeles gleamed silver in the sun. She 
turned and drove southward, until almost lost 
in the haze. She came back at 10:15 o'clock 
and hovered over Bolling Field, where a great 
cloud of dust showed that the army squadron 
of fighting planes from Selfridge Field, De- 

[207] 


CHARLES A, LINDBERGH 


troit, was about to take off for the flight down 
the river to meet the Memphis and escort her 
to the yard. 

The first of this squadron took the air at 
10:20 o'clock, three roaring planes; then came 
squads of threes and two until in five minutes 
twenty-five of the war birds were aloft. They 
came across the Anacostia River, which at the 
yard is the water front, made a wide turn over 
the Navy Yard, the first three circling until the 
others were a-wing, in battle formation, in 
about ten minutes. 

The army’s Martin bombers rose from 
Bolling Field, swung widely to the west and 
then came up over the Anacostia field. At the 
same moment four navy hydroplanes come roar- 
ing up from the southern mist, having flown 
from Norfolk. 

As time drew near for the U.S.S. Memphis 
to appear off Haynes Point, the Selfridge Field 
squadron circled overhead in constantly chang- 
ing formation. ‘The first glimpse of the crowd 
at the Navy Yard had of the Memphis was at 
10:45 (Eastern Time) when her masts ap- 
peared over the trees and roofs of the Ana- 
costia Air Station. 

[208] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


The reception committee, army and navy ofh- 
cers with all their decorations on and civilians 
arrived at the Mayflower’s pier at 11 o'clock 
in a great column of automobiles. The Navy 
Yard Band appeared and lined up at the west 
end of the wharf. 

The saluting battery just off the Mayflower’s 
bow fired fifteen guns for Vice-Admiral Bur- 
rage, on the U.S.S. Memphis, commander of 
the European squadron, to which the cruiser 
made instant response. 

Secretary of the Navy Wilbur arrived at 
II:1§ and received his nineteen guns. A 
minute later the U.S.S. Memphis rounded 
Haynes Point and turned into the Navy Yard 
waters. 

At 11:30 the cruiser was almost abreast of 
the Mayflower. Less than five minutes after 
the bells had struck the half hour the U.S.S. 
Memphis drew alongside the wharf, a roaring 
cheer went up from the crowd. Lindbergh was. 
standing in the port wing of the flying bridge. 
He was bareheaded and wore his familiar blue 
serge suit. 

He replied to the cheers with a constantly 
repeated salute. It was so easy to recognize the 

[209 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


fair-haired youth over whom a whole world 
had gone mad. 

Captain Lindbergh appeared on deck at a 
quarter before 12 and was urged to stand in the 
gangway by one of the cruiser’s officers. He 
looked embarrassed, standing before such a 
crowd—the Cabinet, the Supreme Court Jus- 
tices and many of the highest ranking officers of 
the navy and army. His arms hung at his side, 
one hand holding his dark gray soft hat. 

The first person to go aboard was Mrs. Lind- 
bergh and met her distinguished son in his state- 
room. 

In a short time the captain and his mother 
appeared on deck and cheers from the crowd 
rang out as soon as his figure became recogniz- 
able and he answered with repeated salutes in 
military form. The only thing unmilitary was 
his smile, and he looked extremely young and 
boyish in the midst of all that acclaim. He 
clung close to the bridge rail, an elbow resting 
on it, when he relaxed his military posture. 
The Navy Yard Band, mean time, was blaring 
out ‘Nancy Lee”’ and other nautical airs. 

There was a splendid and colorful parade 
along Washington’s historic streets as vanguard 

[210] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


for Colonel Lindbergh. Crack troops of the 
Government forces, army and navy, and the 
militia of the District were in line, led by some 
of the most distinguished soldiers of the Na- 
tion. The parade formed at the Peace Monu- 
ment, at the foot of the western capitol slope, 
and proceeded to the grounds surrounding the 
Washington Monument, south of the White 
House, where 250,000 people were assembled 
for the exercises. Washington had never seen 
such a demonstration. 

As Lindbergh neared the Monument grounds 
several companies of infantry were drawn up 
in two long facing lines, to form a lane down 
which he approached the President’s stand 
across a broad stretch of turf. 

The President and his party, which included 
Dwight Morrow, Secretary Mellon, Secretary 
Kellogg, Attorney General Sergeant and others, 
were sheltered from the sun. Mrs. Woodrow 
Wilson, in a flanking stand, took refuge under 
a black parasol. 

Seated beside his mother in the automobile, 
with John Hays Hammond, Lindbergh arrived 
at the President’s stand at 1 o'clock. ‘The 
President stepped forward and shook the young 

[211] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


man’s hand. ‘Then, as the multitude cheered, 
he took a seat between the President, on the 
latter’s left, and Secretary of War Davis. 

A moment later President Coolidge began his 
address. He spoke of the great achievements 
of the army and navy flyers in their record 
flights. He spoke of Nungesser and Coli. 
Then he came to “Slim” and his victory. 

When the President spoke of Mrs. Lind- 
bergh, the entire multitude cheered. Mrs. 
Coolidge rose and led the applause in the stand. 
She asked Mrs. Lindbergh to rise, and then the 
cheering was redoubled. The Colonel turned 
and smiled at his mother as if he enjoyed this 
more than all the rest of it. 

Of Mrs. Lindbergh, President Coolidge 
said: “‘She has permitted neither money nor 
fame to interfere with her loyal duty.” 

“The flight of this young man,” he went on, 
““was no haphazard adventure, but taken in all 
seriousness, in the sport of his Viking ancestors. 
The execution of his project was an exhibition 
of perfect art. This country will never forget 
the reception he received at the hands of the 
President and the people of France. 

‘The plane he flew was a product of Amer- 

[212] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


ican genius and construction, more than 100 
American companies having contributed ma- 
terial for it.” 

Then he turned toward the young pilot. 

“This young man who achieved this thing 
is now here, (cheers) Colonel Charles A. Lind- 
bergh of the Army Reserves. As President of 
the United States, I bestow upon Colonel 
Charles A. Lindbergh the Distinguished Flying 
Cross as a symbol of what he has done.” 

Secretary Davis rose and extended the medal 
to the President. Colonel Lindbergh rose to 
his feet. Our newest Colonel tightened his 
mouth, because he seemed most uncomfortable. 
Then the President pinned the badge on Colonel 
Lindbergh’s breast, and put an arm on the boy’s 
shoulder and patted him. 

_ The Colonel bent forward, gave his thanks in 
‘a few words, and sat down while the crowd 
cheered. 

The moment the medal was affixed, a great 
flock of pigeons was released from a cage be- 
low the desk at which the President had spoken. 
The birds rose like a flock of planes, wheeled 
and soared off to the west. 

Now the President called Colonel Lind- 

[213] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


bergh to the speaker’s desk, and with a wave 
of the hand by way of introducing him to the 
crowd, took his seat. The youth stepped for- 
ward to the desk and the microphones set up 
there, and leaning forward so that his voice 
might be clearly heard, delivered a short speech. 

His simple speech was: ‘‘On the evening of 
the 21st of May last I arrived in Le Bourget, 
Paris. During the week I spent in France, the 
day in Belgium and the short period in England, 
the people of France and the people of Europe 
requested that I bring back to the people of 
America one message from the people of France 
and the people of Europe. 

“At every gathering, at every meeting I at- 
tended were the same words: 

‘“*You have seen the affection of the people 
of France for the people of America demon- 
strated to you,’ (Cheers). ‘Upon your return 
to your country take back with you this message 
from France and Europe to the United States 
of America.’ ” 

“T thank you.” 

On Monday morning, June 13th, 1927, 
“Slim” flew to New York in an army pursuit 
plane in two hours and two minutes. 

[214] 


CHAPTER XX 
NEW YORK’S GREAT WELCOME 


On Monday, June 13th, New York shone 
like a rainbow to Colonel Charles A. Lindbergh 
in its tribute to his achievement and his charac- 
ter and warmed his heart with a glow of affec- 
tion and respect. 

He was late in reaching the metropolis and 
the millions anxious to pay him tribute, but his 
welcome was the most overwhelming he has 
experienced or will encounter. The New York 
reception was a climax which probably never 
again will be attained in a similar event. 

Through the long hours of waiting for the 
hero of the day to appear on the soil of Man- 
hattan the more than two million persons, 
packed at every vantage point from the Battery 
to Central Park, maintained a patient vigil. 
But they were not without entertainment. 
Swarms of airplanes darted to and fro in the 
sky, the military parade, passing an hour before 

[215] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


the arrival of the guest of honor at the City 
Hall and formed a preliminary and, in itself, a 
remarkable show and then there was the eye- 
filling, soul stirring influence of the crowd itself. 

Colonel Lindbergh came to New York from 
Washington in an army pursuit plane, landing 
at Mitchel Field two minutes before:noon. In 
less than five minutes he had transferred to an 
amphibian plane, which conveyed him to the 
surface of the Narrows, where he: boarded the 
city reception boat Macom. He flew from the 
capital at the rate of 140 miles an hour. 

On this fast boat, attended by an escort of 
air and water craft such as has never been seen 
in these parts he rode to the Battery, arriving 
at 1:35 o'clock, to be greeted by his mother as 
he stepped ashore. There was some delay in 
his departure from the Battery. His military 
escort had departed long before. 

The deafening din attending his arrival was 
beyond conception of those not within its range. 
Most of it was accomplished by steam whistles 
and sirens and automobile horns. As soon as 
he got into the midst of his countrymen the 
sound of cheers drowned all other sounds. 

Standing erect, apparently stunned by the 

[216] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


magnitude of his greeting, he rode up lower 
Broadway, almost overwhelmed by the showers 
of confetti and tape descending upon him from 
skyscraper windows and roofs. It was like a 
snow storm. At City Hall, where Mayor 
Walker and his cabinet had reviewed the mili- 
tary parade, the young pride of America en- 
tered upon the first phase of his official recep- 
tion to the city which looks upon him as an 
adopted son because it was from here that he 
launched himself upon an adventure which 
thrilled the world. 

Undoubtedly the crowd which assembled to 
greet Colonel Lindbergh was the greatest which 
ever taxed the capacity of downtown New 
York. 

Observers from the ground were thrilled and 
awed by the crowds lining the edges of the roofs 
overlooking Broadway in the skyscraper dis- 
trict. Never before have watchers been driven 
to the roofs in great numbers. The roof of the 
Post Office Building on the Broadway and Mail 
Street sides was a field from which hundreds 
viewed the spectacle. 

The variegated bonnets and gowns of the 
women and the white straw hats of the men 

[217] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


combined to give the streets, viewed from 
above, the aspect of corridors of flower 
gardens. 

Those of the aviators flying over the city 
while the parade was in progress who saw 
service in France must have been reminded, as 
they looked down on the roofs and streets and 
park spots from the Battery to Central Park, 
of the Oriental rug like appearance of the 
poppy fields in the districts behind the trenches. 

The rain of torn papers and ticker tape in 
the downtown section endured for more than 
five hours. 

Within a mile of the point in Roosevelt Field 
from which he set out on May 20 in his pet 
little plane on his epochal trip to Paris Colonel 
Charles A. Lindbergh came to earth again at 
11:58 o'clock, June 13, in Mitchel Field. He 
had flown from Washington in an army pursuit 
plane, which he had never seen before he en- 
tered the cockpit, in two hours and two 
minutes. 

Some 10,000 had assembled at Mitchel Field 
when he landed, although no public announce- 
ment of his destination had been made until 
three hours before. The army plane had no 

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HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


sooner stopped than “Lindy” jumped out, to be 
greeted by several army flyers. 

An army car was nearby. “Lindy” climbed 
into it and was swiftly conveyed to the east side 
of the field where the San Francisco, one of the 
amphibian Good Will planes, which made the 
trip to South America was in waiting. ‘The 
pilot was Captain Ira C. Baker, who guided the 
plane on its South American flight. 

The amphibian took off at 12:02 o'clock. 
Colonel Lindbergh had been on the field only 
four minutes. Captain Baker guided the San 
Francisco to the surface of the water in the 
Narrows at 12:26 o'clock and a small launch 
drew alongside to transfer the guest of honor 
to the city reception boat Macom for the trip 
to the Battery under an escort of craft never 
before seen in this harbor except when there was 
a naval display. 

Save for his disappointment in not being able 
to return to his starting point in his Spirit of 
St. Louis, young Colonel Lindbergh was quite 
satisfied with having completed another return 
leg of his adventure. 

In his flight over New York, Lindbergh had 
seen the great congestion of vessels in the upper 

[219] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


bay and that gave him an idea of the magnitude © 
of the reception New York had prepared for 
him. 

Never before has there been seen such a col- 
lection of craft of all sizes and varied motive 
power as that which covered the surface of the 
Narrows and the Upper Bay when Lindbergh 
arrived, never has there been heard in this har- 
bor such a din of steamship and steamboat 
whistles—not even when the soldier boys came 
home from the war,—as that which greeted the 
shy, yet self-confident “Lindy.” 

The first glimpse people in Greater New 
York got of Colonel Lindbergh was when his 
plane with its escort arrived over the lower tip 
of Staten Island about 11:30 o'clock. A 
minute later those on the great assemblage of 
boats in the Narrows and the Upper Bay 
caught sight of his plane about 3,000 feet up, 
crossing into Brooklyn from Midland Beach. 
Five planes in formation. behind him dropped 
to a lower level, presumably to allow spectators 
on land to pick him out in the air. Other planes, 
a score or more, flew high and widely separated 
several miles behind. 

It was characteristic of the Colonel that from 

[220] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


Washington to Mitchel Field he adhered to a 
schedule with the regularity of his progress in 
his flight to Paris. 

The arrival of Colonel Lindbergh at 
Mitchel Field was the signal for the start from 
the Battery of the parade of 10,000 soldiers 
acting as escort for the guest of honor. 

With the arrival of the head of the parade 
at City Hall Plaza, the ceremonies proceeded 
without appreciable interruption. There was 
some delay down the bay because of the con- 
gestion of water craft but Colonel Lindbergh 
was not far behind the end of his escort as his 
car glided out of Battery Park for the run up 
Broadway. 

By 11 o'clock, when the ticket holders were 
shut off from entrance to City Hall Plaza, 
trafic along the line of the parade from the 
Battery to Madison Square and far into the side 
streets in each direction was at a standstill. 

Congestion extended to all parts of lower 
Manhattan. ‘Trucking and taxicab traffic di- 
verted away from Broadway and Lafayette 
Street at 10 o’clock sought other thoroughfares 
to the eastward and westward. ‘Those thor- 
oughfares were without police direction or pro- 

[221] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


tection. It was a case of free for all with the 
result that in miles of downtown streets trucks, © 
horse drawn as well as motor and automobiles 
of all kinds, were in an immovable tangle at 
noon. 

The simplicity, the modesty and the boyish- 
ness of Colonel Charles A. Lindbergh—really 
much more “‘Lindy” than Colonel—completely 
charmed the thousands which had gathered in 
the plaza of City Hall to greet him. 

His appearance before that great crowd 
which had so long awaited him under a punish- 
ing sun was made with a smile and a flash of 
white teeth, Mayor Walker had just intro- 
duced him with one of his unusually happy 
speeches, and when it came Lindbergh’s turn 
to stand before the microphone it was found to 
be set far too low for the tall youth who was 
to follow. 

So one of the broadcasting men stepped up 
and raised the sliding supporting rod at least 
afoot. This was what made the Colonel smile. 
Then stepping up to the device and grasping it 
with his right hand, which was as steady as if 
upon one of his plane’s controls, “Lindy” began 
to speak. 

[222] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


Many times during his brief talk, some 
youngster, evidently far away, as the voice 
seemed to come from a distance, for all its 
clearness, cried “Hello, Lindy!” And every 
time this happened, the youth stopped speak- 
ing, and grinned broadly until the applause of 
the crowd ceased. 

The composure of this young man, even if he 
has faced great throngs in Europe, been mobbed 
by hundreds of thousands in the enthusiasm of 
welcomes he has received both abroad and at 
home, was incredible to-day. The effect of it 
was redoubled by the appearance of extreme 
youthfulness he presents to every one. It is 
difficult to believe that he is twenty-five years 
of age. He seems a boy still in his teens. Yet 
it was this same composure, no doubt, that car- 
ried him over the Atlantic leagues to supreme 
laurels. 

Colonel Lindbergh wore the familiar blue 
suit, white turn-down collar and inconspicuous 
cravat. In his buttonhole was the red ribbon 
of the Legion of Honor, and beside it the bar 
of the Distinguished Flying Cross which Prest- 
dent Coolidge fastened to his breast in Wash- 
ington. 

[223] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


The acclaim the youth received as he came 
to the rail of the pergola erected in front of the 
City Hall was only a little more noisy than that 
given to his mother when Mayor Walker called 
upon her to face the throng. She did not speak, 
but stood a minute or two bowing and waving 
her right hand as she bent forward, smiling. 

Lindbergh’s speech was brief and delivered 
with marked slowness. He paused frequently, 
but such moments of silence did not in the least 
embarrass him. He waited till he fixed upon 
what he wished to say next and then said. it. 
And when he finished, he put the same tag to it 
that he has always used. “I thank you,” and 
backed out of the picture. 

Then the automobiles drew up at the west 
side of the pergola, behind a large escort of 
mounted policemen, and Colonel Lindbergh was 
ushered into the first car with Mayor Walker 
and Grover Whalen. Colonel Lindbergh, act- 
ing on suggestion, did not seat himself beside 
the Mayor, but took a place upon the top of the 
rear seat, hatless, 90 that all might. see him:as 
he passed northward through the city streets. 
Mrs. Lindbergh, with Mrs. Walker, followed 


in the second car. 
[224] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


As Colonel Lindbergh’s car started away, an 
elderly woman passed close to it and said to 
him: ‘‘Please be careful. You might get hurt 
sitting there.’ But Colonel Lindbergh assured 
her with a smile, and clung to his high perch as 
the car passed on to the cheers of the thou- 
sands that lined the great thoroughfare. 

Five hours of waiting in the hot sun had 
served only to bring to a boiling point the en- 
thusiasm of the throngs packed into the stands 
in City Hall Park. No time was lost in guiding 
the guest of honor and his party to the review- 
ing stand where Mayor Walker, officials of the 
city and members of the reception committee 
were in waiting. 

Grover Whalen, Chairman of the Mayor’s 
Reception Committee, opened the official pro- 
ceedings on the stand—the voices of the par- 
ticipants being carried to the thousands in the 
park by amplifiers. Mr. Whalen said: 

“Mr. Mayor, in the early dawn of Friday, 
May 2oth last, it was my distinguished privilege 
to clasp hands with and bid Godspeed to a typ- 
ical American boy who, armed with sublime 
courage in himself, was seated in the now 
famous monoplane “The Spirit of St. Louis.’ 

[225] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


‘This brave young American lad who that 
morning was unknown and unsung, and little 
dreamed of, the world-wide honor this great 
deed was to win, set the propellors of his- plane 
roaring, and with a rush that thrilled all of us 
who watched him speed off alone down that five 
thousand foot runway, the last touch of Amer- 
ican soil he was to know until his wonderful 
flight over the measureless seas had won for him 
and for his nation a fame that would be un- 
dying. 

‘Fresh from the spontaneous tributes paid 
to his high courage and sublime faith by the 
peoples and the rulers of France, England and 
Belgium he has returned. to. us to-day, returned 
to the city from which he started on his path to 
glory. It is my honor and privilege to present 
him to Your Honor, Mayor Walker, the man — 
who has won the love and admiration of the 
world, Colonel Charles Lindbergh.” 

The City Scroll was then read and presented 
to Colonel Lindbergh by Hector Fuller. Mayor 
Walker spoke in his usual felicitous vein, as 
follows: 

“Colonel Lindbergh, Mrs. Lindbergh, my 
fellow citizens of the City of New York, let me 

[226] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


dispense with any unnecessary official side or 
function, Colonel, by telling you that if you 
have prepared yourself with any letters of in- 
troduction to New York City they are not neces- 
sary. 

‘Everybody all over the world in every lan- 
guage has been telling you and the world about 
yourself. You have been told time after time 
where you were born, where you went to school, 
and that you have done the supernatural thing 
of an air flight from New York to Paris. [| 
am satisfied that you have become convinced of 
it by this time. 

“And it is not my purpose to reiterate any 
of the wonderful things that have been so beau- 
tifully spoken and written about you and your 
triumphal ride across the ocean. But while it 
has become almost axiomatic, it sometimes 
seems prosaic to refer to you as a great diplo- 
mat, because after your superhuman adventure, 
by your modesty, by your grace, by your gentle- 
manly American conduct, you have left no doubt 
of that. But the one thing that occurs to me 
that has been overlooked in all the observations 
that have been made of you is that you are a 
great grammarian, and that you have given 

[227] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


added significance and a deeper definition to the 
word ‘we.’ 

“We have heard and we are familiar with 
the editorial ‘we,’ but not until you arrived in 
Paris did we learn of the aeronautical ‘we.’ 

Now you have given to the world a flying 
pronoun. 

“That ‘we’ that you used was perhaps the 
only word that would have suited the occasion 
and the great accomplishment that was yours. 
That all-inclusive word of ‘we’ was quite right, 
because you were not alone in the solitude of 
the sky and the sea, because every American 
heart from the Atlantic to the Pacific was beat- 
ing for you. Every American, every soul 
throughout the world was riding with you in 
spirit, urging you on and cheering you on to the 
great accomplishment that is yours. 

‘That ‘we’ was a vindication of the courage, 
of the intelligence, of the confidence—and the 
hopes of Nungesser and Coli now only live in 
the prayers and the hearts of the people of the 
entire world. 

‘That ‘we’ that you coined was well used, be- 
cause it gave an added significance and addi- 


tional emphasis to the greatest of any and all 
[228] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


ranks, the word of faith, and turned the hearts 
of all the people of the civilized world to your 
glorious mother, whose spirit was your spirit, 
whose confidence was your confidence, and 
whose pride was your pride; the ‘we’ that in- 
cludes all that has made the entire world stand 
and gasp at your great feat; and that ‘we’ also 
sent out to the world another message, and 
brought happiness to the people of America, 
and admiration and additional popularity for 
America and Americans by all the people of the 
European countries. 

“Colonel Lindbergh, on this very platform 
are the Diplomatic Corps, the diplomatic repre- 
sentatives of all the countries of the civilized 
world, but before you and around you are the 
peoples themselves, of all the countries of the 
civilized world; foregathered in this city, the 
greatest cosmopolitan institution in all the 
world, are the peoples who have come from the 
forty-eight States of the Union, and from every 
country of the civilized world; and here to-day 
as Chief Magistrate of this city, the world city, 
the gateway to America, the gateway through 
which peoples from the world have come in the 
search for liberty and freedom—and have 

[229 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


found it—here to-day let it be written and let it 
be observed that the Chief Magistrate of this 
great city, the son of a immigrant, is here to 
welcome as the world’s greatest hero another 
son of an immigrant. 

“What more need I call to your attention in 
view of the busy life that you have been lead- 
ing, and have the right to expect to lead? 
What more can we say as we foregather in the 
streets of this old city, and to-day not by the 
words alone of the Mayor, or the beautifully 
written words of a scroll that will be given you, 
as you stand here, I am sure you hear something 
even more eloquent and glorious—you can hear 
the heartbeats of six millions of people that live 
in this, the City of New York. And the story 
they tell is one of pride, is one of admiration, 
for courage and intelligence; is one that has 
been born out of and is predicated upon the 
fact that as you went over the ocean you in- 
scribed on the heavens themselves a beautiful 
rainbow of hope and courage and confidence in 
mankind. 

“Colonel Lindbergh, New York City is yours 
—I don’t give it to you; you won it. New York 
not only wants me to tell you of the love and 

[230] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


appreciation that it has for your great venture 
but is deeply and profoundly grateful for the 
fact that again you have controverted all the 
old rules and made new ones of your own, and 
kind of cast aside temporarily even the weather 
prophets and have given us a beautiful day. 

‘So just another word of the happiness, the 
distinction and the pride which the City of New 
York has to-day to find you outside this his- 
torical building, sitting side by side with your 
glorious mother, happy to find you both here, 
that we might have had the opportunity and a 
close-up, to tell you that like the rest of the 
world—but because we are so much of the 
world, even with a little greater enthusiasm 
than you might find in any other place in the 
world—I congratulate you and welcome you 
into the world city, that you may look the world 
in the face.” 

Mayor Walker presented Colonel Lindbergh 
with the Medal of Valor of the City of New 
York, pinning it to the lapel of his blue coat, to 
which has recently also been appended many 
other medals worn only by men of distinguished 
service. 

“Before we present Colonel Lindbergh,” Mr. 

[231] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


Whalen announced to the crowd, “we will give 
you the great pleasure of seeing his mother.” 

Mrs. Lindbergh, a self-possessed mother, 
was presented and bowed to the cheering multi- 
tude. Then Colonel Lindbergh proved himself 
again an orator of parts in that he spoke briefly 
and to the point and also humorously where 
humorous reference was fitting. It was some 
time before he could be heard. 

Following his instructions from the radio 
people he sat himself fairly in front of the mic- 
rophones and spoke slowly and distinctly. He 
started off with his usual directness. 

‘When I was preparing to leave New York,” 
he said, “I was warned that if we landed at Le 
Bourget we might receive a rather demonstra- 
tive reception. After having an hour of Le 
Bourget I did not believe that any one in New 
York had the slightest conception of what we 
did receive. Again at Brussels and at London. 
At London thirteen hundred of the pride of 
Scotland Yard were lost in the crowd at Croy- 
don as though they had been dropped in the 
middle of the ocean. With the exception of a 
few around the car and around the plane, I 
never saw more than two at any one time. 

[232] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


‘At Washington I received a marvelous re- 
ception. But at New York I believe that all 
four put together would be in about just the 
position of those London Bobbies. 

“When I landed at Le Bourget I landed look- 
ing forward to the pleasure of seeing Europe — 
and the British Isles. I learned to speak of 
Europe and the British Isles after I landed in 
London. 

“T had been away from America for a little 
less than two days. I have been very interested 
in the things I saw while passing over southern 
England and France, and I was not in any hurry 
to get back home. 

‘By the time I had spent a week in France 
and a short time in Belgium and England, and 
had opened a few cables from the United 
States, I found that I did not have much to say 
about how long I would stay over there. 

‘“The Ambassador in London said that it was 
not an order to go back home, but there would 
be a battleship waiting in a few days. 

“So I left Europe and the British Isles with 
the regret that I had been unable to see either 
Europe or the British Isles. When I started up 
the Potomac from the Memphis I decided that 

[233] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


I was not so sorry that I had taken the Am- 
bassador’s advice. After spending about an 
hour in New York I know [ am not. 

‘In regard to aviation I would like to say 
just a few words, that is, not to expect too rapid 
development. We are not going to have trans- 
Atlantic service in a few months. We will have 
it eventually. It is inevitable, but it will be after 
careful development and experimental research. 

‘“‘We should have it probably within five or 
ten years, but any attempt to fly across the 
Atlantic regularly without multimotors, without 
stations at intervals along the route, and with- 
out a flying boat that can weather some storm 
would be foolhardy. 

“T want you to remember that aviation has 
developed on a sound basis, and it will continue 
to develop on a sound basis. 

“T thank you.” 

The official reception closed with the singing 
of the “Star Spangled Banner.” 

A mighty roar of cheers and shouts went up 
at 2:40 o'clock when Colonel Lindbergh, seated 
in his car beside Mayor Walker, resumed his 
place in the parade after the impressive cere- 
monies at City Hall. 

[234] 


Addvuvd ANNAAY HLdAlj AYOX AIAN NI LvOTy snowvy 


WUVg IVYLNID AVAN ANNAAY HLALT NO davuvd AWOX MAN AHL AO AIA 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


The mad scenes of enthusiasm which had 
marked his progress along Lower Broadway a 
little earlier were repeated on Lafayette Street 
and on Fifth Avenue. The hundreds of thou- 
sands who had waited for hours seemed tireless 
in their outbursts of applause and acclamation 
as the cars with “Lindy” and his mother 
passed. 

When Colonel Lindbergh’s car reached the 
Tombs, all the barred windows were crowded 
with eager prisoners who tried to outdo their 
free fellow-citizens in the streets in their cheer- 
ing. 

Colonel Lindbergh was bareheaded as he 
watched the crowds and buildings in passing. 
Occasionally he laughed at some of the re- 
marks made to him by Mayor Walker and he 
seemed amused at the showers of confetti and 
the streamers of vari-colored tape that greeted 
him everywhere. 

Along Fifth Avenue the crowds were even 
denser, and paper from the windows on both 
sides of the street showered the two cars in 
which Colonel Lindbergh and his mother rode. 

Traffic policemen in all the towers along the 
route stood at attention and saluted as the cars 

[235] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


‘oassed—a tribute which the young hero ac- 
knowledged with a smile. 

The parade reached the Eternal Light, New 
York’s monument to its soldiers in the World 
War, at 3:30 o'clock. Madison Square was 
jammed, and it was with some difficulty that a 
space was kept open to permit Colonel Lind- 
bergh’s approach to the Light, where 100 mem- 
bers of the American Legion, wearing their blue 
and gold caps, were waiting for him. 

As soon as Colonel Lindbergh’s car stopped, 
Miss Clara Fitcher, a trim, gray-haired woman 
who had served as a nurse in France during the 
World War, met him with a large wreath of 
roses. The flyer stepped out of the car and, 
after he had greeted her, they together carried 
the wreath to the Light and placed it at the 
base, while several bands played “The Star 
Spangled Banner.” 

Colonel Lindbergh then talked to Miss 
Fitcher for a few moments and, bidding her 
good-by by bending over her hand in his courtly 
manner, turned to go back to his car. 

The crowds, however, had succeeded in press- 


ing forward and cutting off his path to the car, 
[236] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


and twenty policemen were required to open 
up a lane for him to pass through. A 

When Colonel Lindbergh finally had suc- 
ceeded in getting back into his car, the parade 
got under way again and proceeded up Fifth 
Avenue to Central Park, where his auto and 
that of his mother’s passed through lines of 
troops to the Mall, where they arrived at 4:15 
o’clock. 

Here the young flyer was presented to Gov. 
Al Smith and Mrs. Smith by Grover Whalen. 

After shaking hands with Colonel Lindbergh, 
Gov. Smith addressed him as follows: 

‘““We have called you here to present you with 
the Medal of Valor, and the word ‘Valor’ is the 
best expression we can use to describe your feat. 
We have great respect for the manly way in 
which you won through.” 

With this, the Governor placed the medal, 
which is made of silver, around the flyer’s neck, 
remarking with a smile: 

“T see you are still described as a Captain on 
this medal, Colonel. I hope that by the time 
this has been changed, you will be a General.” 

Colonel Lindbergh flushed as he listened and 

[237] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


then, stooping down to the microphone, he re- 
plied: 

‘The receptions which Paris, London, Brus- 
sels and even Washington gave me cannot be 
exceeded in sentiment, but the reception which 
New York has given me has surpassed them 
all in volume. 

“Tt gave me pleasure to see the French flag 
flying among the Stars and Stripes just as seeing 
the Stars and Stripes flying among the flags of 
other nations in Europe gave me pleasure. I 
want to say right now that America has a true 
friend in France.” 

The crowds then shouted for Mrs. Lind- 
bergh, and Colonel Lindbergh brought his 
mother to the front of the platform and intro- 
duced her amid cheers. She smiled, but said 
nothing. 

After that Colonel Lindbergh, Gov. Smith, 
Mayor Walker and their staffs reviewed the 
parade. 


[238] 


CHAPTER XxI 
THE HERO “PLAYS HOOKEY’’ ON LONG ISLAND 


ONE day during his brief stay in New York, 
Colonel Lindbergh succeeded in escaping from 
those who would have followed him and went 
to Long Island. This was on June 14, and the 
story of that morning when he “played 
hookey,” was thus related to Lindsay Denison 
by Nils IT. Granlund, a widely-known radio an- 
nouncer, who was of the “hookey”’ party: 

Colonel Charles A. Lindbergh waked after 
six hours sleep in New York in the early morn- 
ing of June 14, and began worrying about his 
ship ““The Spirit of St. Louis,” which he left 
at Washington for slight repairs. 

Colonel Lindbergh routed out his friends and 
made a vain trip to the U. S. Army air field and 
Curtiss Field at Mineola to get a plane to fly 
him to Washington so that he could himself 
bring back, right away, the other half of his 
trans-Atlantic “We.” 

“Slim” wanted that ship here so that he could 

[239] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


start with it to St. Louis. He did not want the 
ship brought to New York by any one but him- — 
self. He wanted the ship there right away so 
that he could fuss over it and tune it up until 
Friday morning when Major Lanphier and the 
army pursuit group from Selfridge Field, 
Michigan, were to escort him from New York 
to St. Louis. 

Slim waked Richard R. Blythe of Bruno & 
Blythe, his public relations counsel, who goes 
with him everywhere and acts for him, and was 
sleeping in the next room. Blythe called Casey 
Jones, who is head test pilot for the Curtiss 
people. I happened to be with Casey Jones 
and have had some aviation experience, so they 
asked me to go along. 

We found Lindbergh finishing his breakfast 
with Police Lieutenant Arthur Wallinger, the 
city’s escort in charge of him during his visit 
here. Lindbergh was in the blue pin striped 
suit which had been pulled and hauled and 
stretched in the two weeks since he had it made 
in Paris that it already looks like old clothes. 

“Casey,” said Blythe, “Slim wants you to 
take him down to Mitchel Field. He wants to 
go to Washington in a Government plane and 

[240] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


get back here in time to keep his engagement 
with the school schildren at 1:30 o’clock.”’ 

“Come on,” said Casey. ‘‘Where’s your 
hat? It’s raining.” 

POhy iD haven't) got//a’ hat,’ said Slim. 
“Every time I get a hat or a cap somebody 
takes it away from me. I guess I'll buy myself 
one to-morrow. Haven't time now.” 

So we went down and found Casey’s car. It 
is an awful thing to look at. Nobody but Casey 
can drive it; he can’t drive it very much. It is 
a wonder the police let it loose on the streets.” 

“Do we have to go in this?” Lindbergh 
asked, giving Casey a cold and critical glance. 

Casey Jones was too proud to talk back. 
He climbed in to the wheel and Lindbergh, 
Lieutenant Wallinger and myself got in the 
back, with Blythe in front. Motorcycle Officer 
Allen N. Van Hagen and Arthur Graef trailed 
in behind. 

It kept raining harder all the time. Lind- 
bergh kept looking back at those motorcycle 
policemen and shaking his head. 

“Those fellows ought not to be taking all 
that wet,’ he said. ‘‘We don’t need them. 
Can’t we send them back, Wallinger ?”’ 

[241] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


We pulled out and had a council. The cops 
hid their motorcycles in the police booth at the - 
end of the bridge and I hired a taxicab and 
they trailed us under cover. 

‘This is the first time I have been my own 
boss since I got to Paris,” Slim said. “It’s 
great—this trip. But it’s tough to have to take 
it with a car like this—and a driver.” 

Jones told him where to go, and it was not to 
Paris. 

Somebody said something about the earth 
inductor compass and how it might help Casey. 

Then we all began to talk about the way 
Lindbergh got through the fog 1,300 miles 
out from Newfoundland on his way to Paris 
and still hit the Irish coast just where he hoped 
to hit it. Slim was serious at once. 

‘(Major Lanphier told me,” he said, “that 
the reason I got through was that I had the 
wind on my tail. He said if I had been hit by 
a north or south wind I would have landed in 
Iceland or the mid-Atlantic. He said it was 
because I had no drift indicator; now I did 
have one of those things; but I didn’t bother 
with it. I knew I could go across with a 
compass and hit Ireland within fifty miles of a 

[242] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


given spot. After I hit Ireland I was all right, 
because when it got dark in France they had 
lights everywhere so I could see where I was 
going.” 

“Why didn’t the English send up guide 
planes to take you to France?” Casey Jones 
asked him. 

“Guess they didn’t think I could make it,” 
said Lindbergh. 

‘Did you really think you had to take letters 
of introduction and tell them when you came 
down on the field that you were Lindbergh?” 
I asked him. 

“That was one laugh on Ted Roosevelt and 
me,” he said, grinning. “I mean about the 
letters. I didn’t say anything when they came 
to the side of my plane in Paris. I was scared 
speechless for fear the crowd would get up 
against the propeller which was still spinning 
and get their heads cut off. 

“Then I was afraid they would tear the 
plane to pieces. So I got out to let them rip 
me apart instead of the plane. They went 
after me good and plenty, but I had on a flying 
suit and they couldn’t get a good hold on me. 
Then a French officer took my helmet and put 

[243] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


it on a young man about my size and yelled 
‘Vive Lindbergh.’ What they didn’t do to that 
poor boy! They tore the sleeve out of his 
coat and split his trousers. He lost all his 
money. 

“T got my helmet back. They may get all 
the hats and caps away from me, but Iam going 
to keep that helmet. 

Lindbergh’s nose was fiery red and his face 
only a little less burned. 

“Get that on the cruiser coming over?” 
asked Wallinger. 

“No,” said Slim, “I got it on that pursuit 
ship I drove from Washington yesterday.” 

‘‘What was your idea in doing a slow barrel 
roll going over Philadelphia?’ I asked him. 
I had been waiting to ask that question. The 
slow barrel roll is about as ugly a stunt as a 
flyer can do. He turns over so that he is flying 
upside down and then rolls over and back again 
until he is upside down on the other side. 

“Oh,” said Slim, “I saw some of the boys 
doing that at Bolling Field Saturday and I 
figured I could do it. I did, but I lost 350 
feet of altitude.” 

[244] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


‘Were you all in when you got to Paris,” 
the Lieutenant asked. 

‘“T was tired, yes. But I got sleep, though I 
thought I couldn’t. Yes, Mr. Herrick was all 
in, too.” 

‘The Prince of Wales was all right,” he said 
in answer to another question. “I only saw 
him about ten minutes. My biggest laugh of 
the trip was Scotland Yard, when I went over 
to Croydon. Thirteen hundred policemen 
were sent to protect the field. Scotland Yard 
thought it was too many—that all England 
couldn’t get past 1,300 policemen. I saw the 
I,300 policemen as I came down and then | 
didn’t see any of them any more. 

‘“T had a nice visit with the King of the 
Belgians,’ he said at another time. ‘The 
Queen was all over my plane. The King knows 
ships, too. He is an aviator and could get 
along all right by himself though they never let 
him go up without a relief pilot.” 

‘Seen the papers? Know they had all the 
way from two to fourteen pages of pictures on 
you to-day?” asked Wallinger. 

‘““Wh-a-a-a-a-t!”” the boy shouted. “Are you 
kidding. I cannot understand it. All this is 

[245] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


entirely beyond me. But I know one thing, 
kind as it all is, I can’t stand it much longer.” 

We showed him a sign on a movie theater 
“Lindy Arrives in New York.” We showed 
him colored prints and newspaper pictures of 
him in small store windows. We were going 
along through Floral Park. 

“T’m going to St. Louis and then get out of 
St. Louis to some place where nobody knows 
me and get a rest,” he said. 

We all laughed. He wanted to know what 
the joke was. 

‘Just what small town have you picked out 
where they don’t know you?” I asked him. 

‘There are plenty of them,” he said and felt 
rather hurt when we laughed again. 

Somebody asked what he thought of the 
plan to establish floating landing fields across 
the Atlantic as has been recently put forward. 

“Ridiculous!” Slim said. “Silly! Suppose 
you did come down on one of them. You would 
still be in a land plane and headed out over 
open water. The way to cross the ocean is in 
a seaplane. The reason I did not go in a sea- 
plane is because there is none yet built which 
will carry a big enough gas load and a boat. 

[246] 


- ae 
ee Oe ee 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


But there will be. If they want landing and 
refilling stations let them build inclosed har- 
bors—floating breakwaters—which will make 
a resting place for seaplanes.”’ 

When we reached Mitchel Field we went to 
headquarters. Slim said he wanted a ship to 
go to Washington. One of the men asked 
him to sign the usual blank for a reserve flyer 
taking out a Government ship. He signed it 
just “Charles A. Lindbergh—R.” I suppose 
the R was for “reserve.” ‘Then the other three 
clerks in the place made him sign duplicate 
receipts. 

The Major in command looked over the 
weather charts. The notations for Bolling 
Field were “poor and dangerous.” 

The Major shook his head. 

“T don’t say you cannot go,” said the Major. 
“But I cannot advise it.” 

“Can’t you call up Bolling and ask them,” 
Lindbergh said, “just what conditions are down 
there? ‘This weather here is all right for fly- 
ing. It’s fine.” He pointed out of the door 
into the pouring rain. ‘‘We always fly air mail 
in this weather without any hesitation.” 

[247] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


“Tt would be very dangerous,” said the 
Major, “this weather and that notation.” 

“T can make it, I know I can,” said Slim. 
He was almost boyish in his pleading. ‘“Be- 
sides I know one corner of that field where 
there isn’t any mud and I will be perfectly 
safe,”” 

But it was perfectly plain that the Major 
did not care to take the responsibility of author- 
izing Lindbergh to fly into a dangerous sit- 
uation. 

“Casey,” Slim said to Jones, ‘‘have you got 
a ship?” 

“Tf that clip wing Oriole is in from Detroit 
yet, you can get to Washington in two hours,”’ 
said Jones. 

*‘Let’s go,” said Slim. 

So we piled into the cars and went to Curtiss 
Field. He went to the pilots’ shack there, took 
a helmet from one pilot and a pair of rubber- 
rimmed goggles from another (he said he 
wished he might have had those goggles on 
the Atlantic trip) and took down a map from 
the wall and said he was all set. 

Then Casey came back and said the Oriole 
would be ready in quarter of an hour. We 

[248] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


went over to Casey’s office. Two minutes 
after we got there there was a crowd of 400 
workmen and clerks outside the window cheer- 
ing. All the time Slim was autographing pic- 
tures and things. One man brought him a 
funnel with a tag on it. 

‘“What’s that?’ asked Slim. 

‘“That’s what I used when the last oil was 
poured into you before you hopped for Paris,”’ 
said the mechanic. Slim signed the tag. 

Casey got word that it would take half an 
hour to get the Oriole ready. Wallinger and 
Blythe told him he would have to give up going 
to Washington or miss his Central Park en- 
gagement. 

“T don’t blame him,” he said about the cau- 
tious Major, “but I wish [ could have made 
him understand how safe it was. 

“Our rule in the air mail is to take off when 
you can take off. Once off you go as far as you 
can and put the mail on a train. We don’t 
worry about weather conditions at the other 
end—not on short flights. If we run into bad 
weather and can’t get through, we come back. 
If you can’t get back you can come down. 
Weather doesn’t mean a thing. 

. [249] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


“Our experience is different from that 
abroad. We do not mind fogs. When I was © 
in London and wanted to fly back to Paris 
they told me it couldn’t be done because there 
was a fog bank 1,000 feet deep over the Chan- 
nel. They wouldn’t let me try it in a Govern- 
ment plane. I borrowed a civilian plane and 
made it all right. 

‘‘When I went up 13,000 feet to get over 
fog on my way over, it wasn’t for fear of the 
fog; it was because there was likely to be snow 
and sleet in the fog. Fog doesn’t mean any- 
thing by itself. I doubt if Nungesser and Coll 
were accustomed-to flying through fogs or knew 
by experience that they must climb out of a fog 
if they met sleet or freezing rain.” 

Slim walked out into the rain and looked at 
the sky. It was beginning to brighten. There 
was even a gleam of sunlight. 

“Look at that,’ he said. ‘I could see three 
miles and there the ceiling is 3,000 feet up.” 
“Don’t you feel a little too tired to fly?” 

Slim laughed. 

‘““Weren’t you horribly and painfully tired 
when you were thirty-three and one-half hourg 

[250] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


in the same uncomfortable position?” I asked 
him. 

“It was pretty bad for the first six hours,” 
he said, quite seriously, “but after that I was 
numb and didn’t mind it.” 

We had three little accidents in the morning. 
Once going out, Casey Jones, the demon chauf- 
feur, made a short stop at a bad spot in the 
road. ‘The taxicab coming behind had to slew 
off to the side of the road and missed us by 
two inches. 

Wallinger is a Swede, so am I. Lindbergh 
looked around and said, ‘“That’s where three 
Swedes nearly got a bump.” We talked about 
Sweden. I knew Wallinger’s old home town. 
Lindbergh did not know Sweden nor Swedish. 
We talked Swedish to fool him. He said his 
father had learned Swedish in Minnesota. 

‘““My mother never learned it,’’ Lindbergh 
said, ‘‘so I never picked it up.” 

Casey Jones got peeved because we had 
kidded his car and wouldn’t take us, so we 
borrowed a decent car from the Curtiss people. 
Blythe drove going home. Near Floral Park 
a fleet of gasoline tanks turned in front of a 
filling station when we were going pretty fast 

[251] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 
and we skidded for about thirty feet. This 


time there was real danger. I couldn’t believe - 
that we weren’t going over and there wasn’t 
a bad wreck. Slim never even turned his head, 
but he laughed. 

Then a traffic cop stopped us on Park Ave- 
nue when we crossed a red light, carelessly. 
We had the motorcycle men with us and 
Wallinger. ‘They all had their caps off. 

The trafic man, a big Irishman, came over 
feeling for his ticket pad and making a noise 
like a popping exhaust. He put his face in 
the window and found Lindbergh in front of 
him. 

‘Tis Lindbergh himself,” he said. His jaw 
dropped. ‘Now what the—” 

‘Never mind, officer,” Wallinger said, put- 
ting on his cap. We went on. For all we know 
the cop is still standing there. 

Lindbergh turned right around and went 
back to Mineola when he learned there was to 
be no concert of school children. He went up 
in the Oriole plane, but found the weather had 
grown so thick that he could not see ground 
from a safe distance in air. Jones persuaded 
him not to try to get to Washington. 

[252] 


CHAPTER; XXIT 


THE OFFICIAL DINNER OF THE CITY OF NEW 
YORK 


ALMOST 4,000 of New York’s most promi- 
nent citizens in all walks of life gathered at 
the Hotel Commodore on the evening of his 
second day in the city to pay homage to him 
in a more personal way. The spirit of 
‘‘Lindy’s” clean, unspoiled youth pervaded the 
great banquet hall and infected all those pres- 
ent. Bank presidents, corporation heads, 
judges, educators, editors, high city officials— 
they all forgot their years and their reserve to 
meet Slim on an equal footing of good fellow- 
ship, and the guest of honor, and the 4,000 
others who were “‘just guests” of the City of 
New York, spent a memorable evening. 

Governor Smith of New York told Colonel 
Lindbergh that he had “found the first place 
in the heart of America, as typifying the youth, 
the spirit and the courage of the great country 
that you represent.” 

[253] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


“Lindy,” confused and flushing again in his 
modesty as the whole assemblage rose to its 
feet to salute him boisterously, told of his 
hazardous flight and then drew an enthusiastic 
picture of his dream of what aviation will be 
like in the future, and Charles Evans Hughes, 
who himself has graced innumerable dinners as 
the guest of honor, delivered one of the most 
eloquent speeches of his colorful career in 
eulogy of “Lindy.” 

Mr. Hughes’s speech was as follows: 

“Mr. Mayor, Governor Smith and Colonel 
Lindbergh: I once read of a young American 
lady who was asked whether she had read the 
Kentucky Cardinal? She said ‘No, she was not 
interested in ecclesiastical history.’ ‘Oh,’ her 
friend said, ‘this Cardinal was a bird.’ ‘Oh,’ 
said she, ‘I do not care anything about his pri- 
vate life.’ 

‘“To-night we are greeting one whom we 
have learned to love as much as we honor, and 
to honor as much as we love, who is in every 
sense a bird in the correct technique of that 
term. The wise man said that one of the things 
that was too wonderful for him was the way 
of an eagle in the air. Even Solomon, in all 

[254] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


his glory of his wisdom, could not imagine the 
way of this American eaglet in the air. 

“The wonders of science have made the old 
mythological tales seem tame and small. Some 
one has said that it is of little use to talk of 
the end of a period for we are always at the 
beginning of a new one. Of all eras this is 
the most fascinating, the most dramatic, the 
most heroic. Let that which hath wings tell 
the story. 

‘‘When a young man, slim and silent, can 
hop overnight to Paris and then in the morning 
telephone his greetings to his mother in De- 
troit; when millions throughout the length and 
breadth of this land and over sea through the 
mysterious waves, which have been taught to 
obey our command, can listen to the voice of 
the President of the United States according 
honors for that achievement, honors which are 
but a faint reflection of the affection and esteem 
cherished in the hearts of the countrymen of 
the West who distinguished America by that 
flight, then indeed is the day that hath no 
bother; then now is the most marvelous day 
that this old earth has ever known. 

‘‘Me measure heroes as we do ships, by their 

[255] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


displacement. Colonel Lindbergh had dis 
placed everything. His displacement is beyond 
all calculation. He fills all our thought; he 
has displaced politics, Governor Smith. 

‘For the time being, he has lifted us into the 
freer and upper air that is his home. He has 
displaced everything that is petty; that is sor- 
did; that is vulgar. What is money in the 
presence of Charles A. Lindbergh? 

‘What is the pleasure of the idler in the 
presence of this supreme victor of intelligence 
and industry? He has driven the sensation 
mongers out of the temples of our thought. 
He has kindled anew the fires on the eight 
ancient altars of that temple. Where are the 
stories of crime, of divorce, of the triangles, 
that are never equilateral? For the moment 
we have forgotten. 

‘This is the happiest day, the happiest day 
of all days for America, and as one mind is 
now intent upon the noblest and the best. 
America as picturing to herself youth with the 
highest aims, with courage unsurpassed; science 
victorious. Last and not least, motherhood, 
with her loveliest crown. 

‘We may have brought peoples together. 

[256] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


This flight may have been the messenger of 
good will, but good will for its beneficial effects 
depends upon the character of those who cher- 
ish it. 

“We are all better men and women because 
of this exhibition in this flight of our young 
friend. Our boys and girls have before them 
a stirring, inspiring vision of real manhood. 
What a wonderful thing it is to live in a time 
when science and character join hands to lift 
up humanity with a vision of its own dignity. 

‘‘America is fortunate in her heroes; her 
soul feeds upon their deeds; her imagination 
reveals in their achievements. There are those 
who would rob them of something of their 
luster, but no one can debunk Lindbergh, for 
there is no bunk about him. He represents 
to us, fellow-Americans, all that we wish—a 
young American at his best.” 

Colonel Lindbergh responded thus: 

‘After I had been out of New York about 
twenty-eight hours there was a certain amount 
of fog and I had a little trouble over sleet and 
storm. I had been flying all night and all day, 
passed over icebergs and ice fields of Milton, 
N. S., and about that time the Martens of the 

[257] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


Irish coast, the west coast of Ireland, loomed 
into the distance. 

‘Five hours later, after I landed at Le 
Bourget, I said to an Irishman in Paris that 
the southwest coast of Ireland was the most 
beautiful sight I had ever seen. The next day 
cables of invitation to visit Ireland and Dublin 
began to come to me. 

“At Le Bourget all the soldiers that were 
available from the French Air Service and ad- 
joining fields were powerless to hold back the 
French people. They walked completely over 
an iron fence seated in concrete. 

“In the City of Paris, standing shoulder to 
shoulder, the police were unable to hold back 
the crowds. At Croydon 1,300 London bob- 
bies, the pride of Scotland Yard, were entirely 
lost in that London crowd, which is so easily 
held in check by a handful of those bobbies. 

‘‘New York overshadowed London and 
Paris put together, and a great deal more. Yet 
at no time did I see a break in the lines of the 
New York police. I do not believe there is 
another country in the world, another city in 
the world that can show a police organization 
like New York. — 

[258] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


‘This is a very fitting time to look forward 
to the possibilities of aviation in America. 
This country is naturally situated to be the lead- 
ing country in aeronautics in the world. It is 
possible to fly long distances without crossing 
an international border. ‘The weather condi- 
tions are good on the whole. We have a peo- 
ple to whom time means more than to the 
people of any other country, and we have an 
Air Mail Service better than that of any Euro- 
pean nation or group of nations. 

“Yet, there is great room for improvement 
in the United States in aeronautics. We have 
practically no passenger lines. Our greatest 
need to-day is for air ports closer to cities; we 
might save several hours in flying between two 
large cities and lose one hour at each city in 
traveling to and from the air port in that city. 
We need modern air ports close to the center 
of towns. 

“Our mail service, which is now practically 
entirely in the hands of private operators, is in 
a few cases on a paying basis. By a paying 
basis I do not mean that there is any margin, 
any large margin, of profit. Most of these 
lines are just about holding their own, or losing 

[259] 


CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


a little each year. If we could have an in- 
creased volume of air mail by 50 per cent we 
could undoubtedly develop our mail lines and 
put them on a paying basis in a very short 
time. 

‘“Trans-Atlantic air travel between this coun- 
try and Europe is only a matter of develop- 
ment. It will not come immediately, but within 
a few years, which it must have to start the 
trans-Atlantic service. The ships used will un- 
doubtedly carry multimotors and will be able to 
land on water and weather a storm. The next 
great step in transoceanic communication by 
air is that of the multimotor machine. I be- 
lieve that these machines will begin to demon- 
strate their possibilities within a very short 
time, although regular communication will not 
come until years of research and development 
have passed. 

“In the meantime, the most important thing 
for us to do is to develop the transcontinental 
branch lines which we already have. A com- 
mercial air service in America gives a reserve 
in case of war which we can develop in no other 
way. Experienced pilots cannot be trained as 
quickly as airplanes can be built. We do not 

[260] 


HIS LIFE AND ACHIEVEMENTS 


invite war; yet one of the surest ways of avert- 
ing it is to have a trained personnel which can 
be mobilized quickly in case of war. A com- 
mercial air service will give us that personnel in 
the matter of fighting planes in case we are 
forced into conflict. Our planes in the army 
airport are the most developed in the world, 
although we have very few of them. And I 
have no hesitation in saying, without the least 
exaggeration, that the pilots of the United 
States Army have no equal in the civilized 
world. es 

“I would like to bring forward the necessity 
of developing an airport as quickly as possible 
in each town and city of this country. As soon 
as those airports are placed at the disposal of 
American airmen we will have a passenger 
service equal to our mail service and better 
than any of the European nations.” 

The Borough of Brooklyn gave June 16 
a reception to the Colonel that will live long 
in its history. 

Colonel Lindberg, early on the morning of 
June 17, left New York in his beloved plane, 
“The Spirit of St. Louis,” for St. Louis to be 
greeted by its entire population. 

[261] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 
THE FLIGHT OF 
CAPTAIN CHARLES A. LINDBERGH 


From New York TO Paris 
MAY 20-21, 1927 


As Compiled from the Official Records 
of the 
Departmeat of State 


Presented by the Secretary of State 
Frank B. Kellogg, June 11, 1927, to 


CAPTAIN LINDBERGH 


In commemoration of his epochal achievement 


[262] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


FOREWORD 


At 6.52 on the morning of Friday, May 20, 1927, Captain Charles 
A. Lindbergh, 25-year-old officer of the Missouri National Guard and 
airmail pilot, who ten days previously had set a new long-distance record 
by crossing the continent alone in his specially constructed single-engine 
Ryan monoplane, “The Spirit of St. Louis,’’ took off from Roosevelt 
Field to attempt the flight from New York to Paris. He flew alone and 
without wireless. 

The tragic disappearance of Captains Nungesser and Coli of France, 
whose heroic but ill-fated endeavor to fly from Paris to New York 
had aroused universal admiration and sorrow, was still fresh in the 
minds of men, and Captain Lindbergh’s effort was watched with mingled 
feelings of deep anxiety and tense interest. 

Frequent news of his progress northward and eastward along the Atlantic 
coast increased the excitement of his millions of well-wishers, and at 
6.15 on Friday evening he was reported over St. John’s, Newfoundland, 
headed for the ocean in the direction of Ireland. That was the last bit 
of information concerning him for almost twelve hours, when word was 
received on Saturday morning that he had been sighted by a steamer 
some 500 miles off the Irish coast. From then on the reports became 
more frequent, and as he drew nearer his goal he was picked up and 
escorted by British and then French planes. Ten hours later, at 10.21 
P. M., Paris time, he made a perfect landing on the flying field at Le 
Bourget, outside Paris, where a huge and enthusiastic throng had gathered 
to welcome him. He had covered the 3,600 miles between New York 
and Paris in 33% hours at an average speed of 10734 miles per hour. 

During the days which followed in Paris, where he was the guest 
of the American Embassy, he was received by the French Government 
and people with an enthusiasm and cordiality which has seldom been 
paralleled. For the first time in history the President of the French 
Republic personally decorated an American citizen with the Cross of 
the Legion of Honor. 

On May 28 he flew to Brussels, where a similar welcome awaited him 
and where King Albert bestowed upon him the order of Chevalier of 
the Royal Order of Leopold. 

Proceeding to England in his plane, he was greeted by immense crowds 
at Croydon and was received by King George, who presented him with 
the Royal Air Force Cross. 

After returning to Paris once more to say farewell to the country 
where he had first landed from his flight, he left from Cherbourg on 
the U. S. S. Memphis, which had been placed at his disposal by the 
American Government, and upon his arrival in Washington he was offi- 
cially received by President Coolidge, who decorated him with the Dis- 
tinguished Flying Cross. : : P : 

Some small conception of the extent to which Captain Lindbergh’s 
astonishing achievement and his remarkable poise in the moment of 
triumph touched the imagination of all peoples may be gathered from 
the following official messages selected from the records of the Department 
of State. In reading this brief and necessarily incomplete compilation, 
future generations may themselves sense something of the thrill which 
swept through the hearts of men and women when _ the word was 
flashed: “Lindbergh landed at Le Bourget at 10.21, Paris time.” 

Frank B. KELLoce 
[263] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 
NEW YORK TO PARIS 
May 20-21, 1927 


THe Wuite Howse, 
Washington, May 13, 1927. 
His Excellency 
President Gaston Doumergue, 
Paris. 


1 desire to extend to you and to the people of France this 
expression of my deep personal sympathy, which I assure 
you is shared by all Americans, in this time of anxiety over 
the fate of the two French aviators, Nungesser and Coli. Their 
splendid courage has touched the imagination of America and 
there is everywh.re the most earnest hope that they may still 
be found. I assure you that this Government is doing every- 
thing humanly possible to assist in the search, and I pray that 
this search may issue in success. 

CALVIN COOLIDGE 


ELys&E PALACE, 
Paris, May 14, 1927. 
His Excellency 
Mr. Calvin Coolidge, 
President of the Republic of the United States of 
America, Washington. 


I hasten to thank you, in my own name and in the name 
of the French people for the deep sympathy you so kindly 
take in the anxiety now gripping our hearts about the fate 
of the two aviators Nungesser and Coli. The French people 
are deeply touched by the marks of admiration evinced in 
these circumstances by the people of the United States and 
the generous assistance so kindly lent by the American Gov- 
ernment to the endeavor now being made to find the missing 
aviators. In this trying moment, as in all those she has 
undergone, France once more experiences the active sympathy 
of your great country. 

Gaston DOUMERGUE 


[264] 


a 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


AMERICAN Empassy, 
Paris, May 20, 1927. 
Secretary of State, 
Washington. 


Associated Press informs me that Lindbergh left New York 
at 7.52 American time * this morning. Please confirm as in- 
quiries will be made of me. 

HERRICK 

* Daylight saving time. 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
Washington, May 20, 1927. 
American Embassy, 
Paris. 


Press reports Lindbergh left 6.52 a. m., passed Providence 
8.40, and Brockton, Massachusetts, 8.55, standard time. 
KELLOGG 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
Washington, May 21, 1927. 
American Embassy, 
Paris. 


Please deliver the following message from the President to 
Captain Lindbergh immediately on his arrival: 


The American people rejoice with me at the brilliant ter- 
mination of your heroic flight. The first non-stop flight of a 
lone aviator across the Atlantic crowns the record of American 
aviation, and in bringing the greetings of the American people 
to France you likewise carry the assurance of our admiration 
of those intrepid Frenchmen, Nungesser and Coli, whose bold 
spirits first ventured on your exploit, and likewise a message 
of our continued anxiety concerning their fate. 

CALVIN COOLIDGE. 


KELLOGG 


[265] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


AMERICAN EMBASSY, 
Paris, May 23, 1927. 
Secretary of State, 
Washington. 
For THE PRESIDENT FROM LINDBERGH. Your appreciative 
message filled me with gratitude. 
HERRICK 


AMERICAN EMBASSY, 
Paris, May 22, 1927. 
Secretary of State, 
Washington. 

For THE Presment. All France is deep in joy at Charles 
Lindbergh’s brave flight. Your message was such a worthy 
tribute. If we had deliberately sought a type to represent the 
youth, the intrepid adventure of America, and the immortal 
bravery of Nungesser and Coli, we could not have fared as 
well as in this boy of divine genius and simple courage. 

HERRICK 


AMERICAN EMBASSY, 
Paris, May 21, 1927. 
Mrs. Evangeline L. Lindbergh, 
Detroit, Michigan. 

Warmest congratulations. Your incomparable son has hon- 
ored me by becoming my guest. He is in fine condition and 
sleeping sweetly under Uncle Sam’s roof. 

Myron Herrick 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
Washington, May 21, 1927. 
American Embassy, 
Paris. 

Please deliver the following personal message to Captain 
Charles A. Lindbergh: “I heartily congratulate you on the 
success of your great adventure in accomplishing a non-stop 
flight from New York to Paris. It is a great step in the 
advancement of aviation. Every one in the United States 
is proud of your accomplishment.” 

KELLOGG 


[266] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


AMERICAN Embassy, 
Paris, May 23, 1927. 
Secretary of State, 
Washington. 


For THE SECRETARY FROM LINDBERGH. Your kind message 
tremendously appreciated. 
HERRICK 


ELYSEE PALACE, 
Paris, May 21, 1927. 
His Excellency, 

Myr. Calvin Coolidge, 

President of the United States of America, 
Washington. 

On the morrow of the attempt of our aviators, whose mis- 
fortune was so keenly felt by the kindly hearts of your coun- 
trymen, Charles Lindbergh made true the dream of Nungesser 
and Coli, and by his audacious flight brought about the aerial 
union of the United States and France. 

All Frenchmen unreservedly admire his courage and re- 
joice in his success. I congratulate you most heartily in the 
name of the Government of the Republic and of the whole 
country. 

Gaston DoUMERGUE 


THe WuitEe Hovse, 
Washington, May 21, 1927. 
His Excellency, 
Mr. Gaston Doumergue, 
President of the French Republic, 
Paris. 

I thank you for your cordial message, which I share with 
the American people. I rejoice in the success of the young 
man who so courageously set forth on his lonely flight, but 
neither I nor the people of the United States forget to share 
in the sorrow of France in the recent loss of your two 
brave aviators. It is largely due to the genius of France 
that aviation has progressed so rapidly, and as it brings us 
closer as measured by hours so it must increase our heritage 
of sympathy and understanding. 


[267] 


CaLvIn COOLIDCE 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


LAEKENPALS, BELGIUM, 
May 22, 1927. 
President Coolidge, 
Washington. 


Warmest congratulations for incomparable achievement of 
your heroic fellow countryman Lindbergh. 
ALBERT 


Tue Wuite Howse, 
Washington, May 25, 1927. 
His Majesty 
Alberi, 
King of the Belgians. 


I genuinely appreciate the receipt of Your Majesty’s congrat- 
ulations upon the success of Captain Lindbergh. 
CALVIN COOLIDGE 


Mapripv, May 22, 1927. 
President Coolidge, 
Washington. 


Please accept my warmest congratulations on wonderful 
performance of an American aviator in crossing the Atlantic. 
Atronso R. 


Tue Waite House, 
Washington, May 24, 1927. 
His Majesty 
Alfonso XIII, 
Madrid. 


Your telegram of congratulation upon the remarkable 


achievement of Captain Lindbergh is a source of gratification 
to the American Government and people. 


[268] 


CALVIN COOLIDCE 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


Buenos Arres, May 23, 1927. 
His Excellency 
Calvin Coolidge, 
President of the United States of America, 
Washington. 


In the name of the Argentine people and Government and 
in my own I tender to Your Excellency our congratulation on 
the happy outcome of Lindbergh’s flight. His feat arouses uni- 
versal admiration and imparts one more demonstration of the 
industrial ability, intelligence, and energy of the great people 
of whom you are the worthy Chief Magistrate. 

ALVEAR 
President of the Argentine Nation 


Tue Waite House, 
Washington, May 26, 1927. 
His Excellency 
Marcelo T. de Alvear, 
President of the Argentine Republic, 
Buenos Aires. 


I thank Your Excellency and the people of Argentina most 
sincerely for the cordial message of congratulations upon the 
great achievement of the aviator Lindbergh. The sentiments 
so graciously expressed are deeply appreciated. 

Carvin CooLmcE 


MonrTevipeo, May 23, 1927. 
His Excellency 
The President of the United States of America, 
Washington. 


It affords me intense satisfaction to forward to Your Ex- 
cellency the felicitations of the Uruguayan people, who are 
joyfully celebrating the stupendous achievement of aviator 
Lindbergh, who has brought honor to all America by winning 
for your great friendly nation the admiration and applause of 
the whole world. 

Juan CAMPISTEGUY, 
President of the Republic 


[269] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


THe Wuite Hovse, 
Washington, May 24, 1927. 
His Excellency 
Juan Campisteguy, 
President of the Oriental Republic of Uruguay, 
Montevideo. 


I thank you and the people of Uruguay most cordially for 
your sympathetic message of congratulations upon the accom- 
plishment of the aviator Lindbergh. 

Carvin CooLipcE 


Hasana, May 22, 1927. 
His Excellency 
Calvin Coolidge, 
Washington. 


Accept, Excellency, the warm felicitation of the people of 
Cuba and my own for the daring deed achieved by the Amer- 
ican aviator Lindbergh. I salute you affectionately. 

| GERARDO MACHADO 


THe WHITE House, 
Washington, May 27, 1927. 
His Excellency 
Gerardo Machado, 
President of Cuba, 
Habana. 


I thank you and the people of Cuba most cordially for your 
sympathetic message of congratulations upon the accomplish- 
ment of the aviator Lindbergh. 

CaLvin COOLIDGE 


[270] 


ns ealatinn Sia ae 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


Panama, May 25, 1927. 
President Calvin Coolidge, 
White House, 
Washington. 


Lindbergh’s flight will leave a luminous track in the his- 
tory of your great country and of the whole world, and I 
send you my most sincere congratulations. 

RopoLtFo CHIARI, 
President of the Republic of Panama 


Tue Wuite Howse, 
Washington, May 27, 1927. 
His Excellecy 
Rodolfo Chiari, 
President of the Republic of Panama. 

I acknowledge with great appreciation the receipt of the 
telegram by which Your Excellency expressed admiration and 
congratulations for the truly inspiring flight of Captain Lind- 
bergh. 

Catvin CooLmDcEe 


SANTO Dominco, May 23, 1927. 
To His Excellency 
President Calvin Coolidge, 
Washington. 

It affords me pleasure to send to Your Excellency my most 
cordial felicitations for the ringing triumph won for your 
great nation by the noble aviator Lindbergh. 

PRESIDENT VASQUEZ 


oes 


Tue Wuitte Hovse, 
Washington, May 25, 1927. 
His Excellency 
Horacio Vasquez, 
President of the Dominican Republic, 
Santo Domingo. 


Please accept my most sincere thanks for Your Excellency’s 
thoughtful telegram of congratulation upon the successful con- 
clusion of the inspiring flight of Captain Lindbergh. 

CaLvIn COOLIDGE 
[271] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


GUATEMALA, May 25, 1927. 
His Excellency 

Calvin Coolidge, 

President of the United States of America, 
Washington. 

Guatemala joins in the rejoicing of the American people and 
Government over the happy New York-Paris flight of the 
pilot Lindbergh, which covers your noble country’s aviation 
with glory. 

Lazaro CHACON, 
President of Guatemala 
THe Waite Hovse, 
Washington, May 28, 1927. 
His Excellency 
Lazaro Chacon, 
President of Guatemala, 
Guatemala, 

I acknowledge with thanks and deep appreciation the receipt 
of your thoughtful telegram of congratulations upon the suc- 
cessful termination of Captain Lindbergh’s flight to Paris. 

CALVIN COOLIDGE 


AMERICAN EmBassy, 
Rome, May 23, 1927. 
Secretary of State, 
Washington. 

I received yesterday afternoon from Mussolini an auto- 
graphed letter of which the following is a translation: 

Mr. Ampassapor: Accept the expression of enthusiastic ad- 
miration which rises in this moment from the hearts of 
the entire Italian people, rejoicing in the superb transoceanic 
flight of Lindbergh. 

A superhuman will has taken space by assault and has 
subjugated it. Matter once more has yielded to spirit, and 
the prodigy is one that will live forever in the memory of 
men. 


Glory to Lindbergh and to his people! areata 


Copy has been sent to Lindbergh at Paris and given to the 


press. 
FLETCHER 


[272] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


AMERICAN Empassy, 


Hon. Benito Mussolini, Rome, May 22, 1927. 


Rome. 

Please accepf my most cordial thanks for Your Excellency’s 
letter of generous, inspiring praise of the ocean-conquering 
flight of the young American aviator, Charles Lindbergh. I 
have telegraphed to the young hero the cordial message of 
Your Excellency, which will be highly appreciated, not only 
by him, but by the entire American Nation. 

FLETCHER 


AMERICAN LEGATION, 
Secretary of State, pene, May, 25, 1927. 
Washington. 
The King has just sent his Secretary to the Legation, who 
requested me to transmit His Majesty’s heartiest congratula- 
tions and his delight at the magnificent flight over the Atlantic 
by an American aviator. Mirco 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 


Ui mevican Legation, Washington, May 25, 1927. 


Sofia. 
Please make appropriate acknowledgment and express this 
rnment’s sincere appreciation. y 
pove PP KELLOGG 


AMERICAN LEGATION, 
Secretary of State, Lisbon, May 23, 1927. 
Washington. 
Chief of Foreign Office to-day called to present on behalf 
of Portuguese Government, Portuguese people and Foreign 
Minister, felicitations upon success of Captain Lindbergh. 


Suggest appreciative reply. Tyan 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 


B mercan ‘Leviton Washington, May 25, 1927. 


Lisbon. 
Inform Foreign Office that American people deeply appre- 
ciate the Portuguese felicitations upon the success of Captain 


Lindbergh. KELLOGG 
[273] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


FrencH Empassy, 
Washington, May 22, 1927. 


My peAR Mr. SECRETARY: 

A cable from Mr. Briand has just reached this Embassy 
asking me to express to you the very sincere congratulations of 
the French Government for the admirable flight of Captain 
Lindbergh. 

It gives me great pleasure to convey this message and to 
add my Government’s deepest thanks for the unsparing efforts 
made by the United States Government to try and locate 
our two unfortunate aviators, Nungesser and Coli. 

I have the honor to be, my dear Mr. Secretary, with highest 
regards. 

Very sincerely yours, 
SARTIGES 
Chargé d’Affaires 


———————e 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
Washington, May 24, 1927. 


My pEAR Mr. CHARGE D’AFFAIRES: 

I have received with gratification your note, of May 22, 
conveying to me the congratulations of the French Govern- 
ment upon the remarkable flight of Captain Lindbergh, and 
expressing your Government’s thanks for the efforts which 
this Government has made to locate those gallant aviators, 
Nungesser and Coli. 

While this country is rejoicing over the extraordinary 
achievement of Captain Lindbergh, it has not forgotten the 
magnificent courage of Nungesser and Coli, nor has it ceased 
to cherish the hope that they may be found. 

I am, my dear Count de Sartiges, 

Very sincerely yours, 
FRANK B. KELLOGG 
Count de Sartiges, 
Chargé d’ Affaires ad interim 
of the French Republic. 


[274] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


British EMBASsy, 
Washington, May 22, 1927. 
Sir: 
I have the honour to convey to you and to beg you to 
be so good as to convey to the proper authorities, the follow- 
ing message from Sir Samuel Hoare, His Majesty’s Secretary 
of State for Air: 


Very pleased at the success of Captain Lindbergh’s cour- 
ageous venture and send in the name of the Air Council cordial 
congratulations on his splendid achievement. 


I have the honour to be, with the highest consideration, Sir, 
Your most obedient humble servant, 
For the Ambassador: 
H. S. Cuaizton 
The Honourable Frank B. Kellogg, 
Secretary of State of the United States, 
Washington, D. C. 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
Washington, May 26, 1927. 
EXCELLENCY:? 

I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of Your Ex- 
cellency’s note No. 344 of May 22, 1927, conveying for trans- 
mission to the proper authorities a message of congratulation 
from Sir Samuel Hoare, His Majesty’s Secretary of State for 
Air, on account of the recent flight from New York to Paris 
of Captain Charles Lindbergh. 

I shall be gratified if you will convey to His Majesty’s 
Secretary of State for Air an expression of this Government’s 
high appreciation of his kind message of congratulations, 
which will be communicated to the appropriate authorities. 

Accept, Excellency, the renewed assurances of my highest 
consideration. 

FraNK B. KELLOGG... 


[275] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


His Excellency 
The Right Honorable 
Sir Esme Howard, G. C. M. G., K. C. B., C. V. O., 
Ambassador of Great Britain. 


PERUVIAN EmBassy, 
Washington, May 23, 1927. 
Sir: 

I have the honour, in the name of my Government and in 
my own, to express to Your Excellency the admiration and 
gratification experienced in Peru at the news of the splendid 
achievement of American aviation typified by the epochal 
flight between New York and Paris, undertaken and suc- 
cessfully carried out by Captain Charles Lindbergh. 

I take advantage of this happy opportunity to reiterate to 
Your Excellency the assurances of my highest consideration. 

HERNAN VELARDE 
His Excellency 
Frank B. Kellogg, 
Secretary of State. 


(Se eS 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
Washington, May 27, 1927. 
EXCELLENCY: 

I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of Your 
Excellency’s note of May 23, 1927, whereby you were good 
enough to express your gratification and that of the Gov- 
ernment of Peru at the success of Captain Charles Lindbergh’s 
attempt to fly from New York to Paris. 

Permit me to thank Your Excellency, on my own behalf 
and that of the Government of the United States, for this 
communication, which I assure you is cordially appreciated. 

Accept, Excellency, the renewed assurances of my highest 
consideration. 

' FRANK B. KELLOGG 
His Excellency 
Dr. Herndn Velarde, 
Ambassador of Peru. 


[276] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


BEtcIAN Empassy, 
Washington, May 24, 1927. 
Mr. SECRETARY OF STATE: 

Belgium, always attentive to the development of science, 
especially in the domain of the conquest of the air, has fol- 
lowed with particular interest the marvellous flight which the 
American aviator Lindbergh has just accomplished. 

Joining most heartily in the glowing ovations being tendered 
to this valiant son of America by the entire world, the Gov- 
ernment of the King has instructed me to express to the Gov- 
ernment of the United States its warmest congratulations upon 
this occasion and to put forth the hope that the brilliant ex- 
ploit of Captain Lindbergh will contribute toward bringing 
the two continents into still closer touch for the greater 
welfare of all mankind. 

I take this occasion, my dear Mr. Secretary, to renew 
to, Your Excellency the assurances of my highest consideration. 
. BaRON DE CARTIER DE MARCHIENNE 

Bis Excellency 
Mr. Frank B. Kellogg, 
Secretary of State, 
Washington, D. C. 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
~ Washington, May 26, 1927. 
Sm: 

I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your note 
of May 24, 1927, expressing the warm felicitations of the 
Belgian Government on the magnificent achievement of Cap- 
tain Lindbergh. 

Allow me to express my Government’s deep appreciation 

that your Government should join with it in paying tribute to 
Captain Lindbergh, who has contributed in no small way 
toward bringing our two countries into closer friendly rela- 
tions. 
“* Accept, Sir, the renewed assurances of my highest con- 
sideration. Frank B. KELLOGG 
His Excellency 

Baron de Cartier de Marchienne, 

Belgian Ambassador. 


[277] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


Memorandum left at the Department of State by the German 
Acting Chargé d’Affaires, May 25, 1927 

The Acting German Chargé d’Affaires, O. C. Kiep called 
upon State Department to-day to express, under instructions 
of his Government, to the Government of the United States 
warmest congratulations on the successful flight from New 
York to Paris and the great aeronautic achievement per- 
formed by Captain Charles Lindbergh. 


THE NETHERLANDS LEGATION, 
Washington, May 25, 1927. 
Sr: 

In accordance with instructions just received, I have the 
honor to transmit to Your Excellency the warm congratula- 
tions of Her Majesty’s Government on the occasion of Cap- 
tain Charles Lindbergh’s heroic flight from New York to 
Paris. 

All Holland is filled with admiration for the success of 
this great feat and is keenly alive to the significance of this 
historic achievement. 

While complying with the wishes of Her Majesty’s Gov- 
ernment, I avail myself of this opportunity to renew to Your 
Excellency, the assurance of my highest consideration. 


The Honorable, J. H. van Roven 


The Secretary of State, 
Washington, D. C. 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
a Washington, May 31, 1927. 
TR: 

I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your note 
of May 25, 1927, expressing the warm congratulations of the 
Government of the Netherlands on the splendid flight of Cap- 
tain Charles Lindbergh. 

Allow me to express my Government’s deep appreciation 
that your Government should join with it in paying tribute 
to Captain Lindbergh’s magnificent and historic achievement. 

Accept, Sir, the renewed assurance of my highest con- 


sideration. Fein enn 
Mr. J. H. van Royen, 
Minister of the Netherlands. 
[278] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


LEGATION OF THE 
Unitep STATES OF VENEZUELA, 
Washington, May 25, 1927. 
EXCELLENCY: 

I have the honor to address Your Excellency to express to 
you the cordial felicitation in the name of the Government 
of Venezuela, and in my own, on the extraordinary exploit 
of Captain Charles Lindbergh. In the most tender youth that 
eminent citizen of the great American nation has covered him- 
self with glory. 

I avail myself of the opportunity i renew to Your Ex- 
cellency, etc. 

Cartos F. GrisANntt 
To His Excellency 
Frank B. Kellogg, 
Secretary of State of the United States of America, 
Washington, D. C. 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
Washington, June 2, 1927. 
Sm: 

I have the honor to acknowledge, with appreciation, the 
receipt of your esteemed communication dated May 25, 1927, 
expressing congratulations on behalf of the Government of 
Venezuela and yourself upon the successful flight of Captain 
Charles Lindbergh from New York to Paris. 

I have the honor to assure you that the cordial sentiments 
expressed by your Government and yourself are greatly ap- 
preciated by this Government. 

Accept, Sir, the renewed assurances of my highest con- 
sideration. 

Frank B. KELLOGG 
Senor Dr. Don Carlos F. Grisanti, 
Minister of Venezuela. 


[279] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


LEGATION OF THE DomINIcAN REPUBLIC, 
Washington, May 25, 1927. 
Mr. SECRETARY OF STATE: 

His Excellency President Vasquez has sent me instructions, 
which I take particular pleasure in carrying out, to ask you 
to voice to His Excellency the President, Mr. Coolidge, the 
satisfaction and enthusiasm of himself and his people in con- 
nection with the portentous feat of the intrepid North Amer- 
ican aviator, Captain Charles Lindbergh. 

He also instructs me to renew to you on such an auspicious 
occasion the heartfelt expression of his personal sympathy for 
His Excellency the President of the United States, Your Ex- 
cellency, and your great and noble people. 

Accept, Mr. Secretary, the renewed assurance of my highest 
consideration. 

A. Moraes 
To His Excellency Frank B. Kellogg, 
Secretary of State of the United States, 
Washington. 


LEGATION OF POLAND, 
Washington, May 26, 1927. 
Sir: 
I have the honor to inform you that I have been instructed 
by Prime Minister Marshal Pilsudski to extend to the United 
States Government on behalf of the Government of the Re- 
public of Poland its congratulations on the great achievement 
of Captain Charles A. Lindbergh in flying from New York 
to Paris. 
Accept, Sir, the assurances of my highest consideration. 
Lron ORLOWSKEI, 
Chargé d’Affaires 
The Honourable 
Frank B. Kellogg, 
Secretary of State. 


[280] 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


May 23, 1927. 
President Calvin Coolidge, 
Washington. 

Osaka Asahi* extends hearty congratulations to you and 
your people on epoch-making flight across the Atlantic France- 
wards, successfully achieved by Captain Lindbergh. 

* A well-known Japanese newspaper. 


Wasuincton, May 24, 1927. 
American Embassy, : 
Tokyo. 

Make appropriate acknowledgement of following telegram 
addressed to the President: “Osaka Asaihi extends hearty 
congratulations to you and your people on epoch-making flight 
across the Atlantic Francewards, successfully achieved by 


Captain Lindbergh.” 
KELLOGG 


AMERICAN LEGATION, 
Montevideo, May 24, 1927. 


Secretary of State, 
Washington. 
Lindbergh’s success in trans-Atlantic flight greeted by 


Uruguayan press and people with enthusiastic praise. 
GRANT SMITH 


AMERICAN CONSULATE, 
Sao Paulo, May 26, 1927. 


Secretary of State, 
Washington. 
America colony Sao Paulo begs Department transmit aviator 
Lindbergh heartiest congratulations completion New York- 


Paris non-stop flight. 
AMERICAN CONSUL 


AMERICAN EMBASSY, 
Secretary of State, Madrid, June 2, 1927. 
Washington. 
Spanish Government has awarded to Lindbergh Plus Ultra 
Vires medal, only conferred twice before, and requests I accept 
it with the usual ceremony on his behalf. 


[281] 


HAMMOND 


CABLES AND TELEGRAMS 


DEPARTMENT OF STATE, 
Washington, June 3, 1927. 
American Embassy, 
Madrid. 

You may accept the Plus Ultra Vires medal on Lindbergh’s 
behalf. You will, of course, express the high appreciation of 
this Government that Captain Lindbergh has been thus 
honored. 

KELLOGG 
FRENCH EMBASSY, 
Washington, May 30, 1927. 
SECRETARY OF STATE: 

The President of the French Republic, who has heen pro- 
foundly touched by the message which the President of the 
United States has been good enough to address to him on the 
occasion of the reception given by France to Captain Lind- 
bergh, has just asked me to transmit to Mr. Coolidge a message 
which is enclosed herewith. 

I should be greatly obliged if Your Excellency would convey 
to Mr. Coolidge, Monsieur Doumergue’s telegram. 

Accept, Excellency, the assurances of my high consideration. 

SARTIGES 


Fis Reotiney Chargé d’Affaires 


The Hon. Frank B. Kellogg 
Secretary of State of the United States 
Washington, D. C. 


[Enclosure] 
His Excellency 
The Honorable Calvin Coolidge, 
Washington. 

The thanks which Your Excellency has addressed to me for 
the reception given to Captain Lindbergh by the French 
Government and people have touched me deeply and will be 
felt by all my countrymen. 

The applause of a whole nation has greeted the hero whose 
achievement marks a definite step in the conquest_of the. air. 

In the glorious combats for Liberty of to-day, in the moving 
struggles for human progress, the union between the United 
States and France remains unalterable and inspiring. 

Gaston DoUMERGUE 
[282] | 


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